GIFT  OF  THE  DESERT 


His  iron  grip  closed  on  the  bit  of  her  horse, 
and  the  animals  stopped  short 


Gift  of  the  Desert 


By  RANDALL  PARRISH 


Author  of 

"Beyond  the  Frontier,"  "Bob  Hampton  of  Placer/*  "Com- 
rades of  Peril,"  "The  Case  and  the  Girl,"  "The  Devil's 
Own"  "The  Mystery  of  the  Silver  Dagger" 
'Wolves  of  the  Sea,"  etc. 


A.  L.  BURT  COMPANY 

Publishers  New  York 

Published  by  arangement   with  A.    C.   McClurg  &  Co. 
Printed  in  U.  S.  A. 


Copyright 

A.  C.  McCLURG  &  CO. 

1922 


published  August,  19& 


Copyrighted  in  Great  Britain 


Printed  in  the  United  States  of  America 


<?6/ 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

I  The  Choice I 

II  Meager  States  His  Plan 12 

III  The  Message  from  the  Bunkhouse 24 

IV  The  Coming  of  the  Judge 35 

V  The  Marriage 45 

VI  The  Blow  in  the  Dark 56 

VII  The  Man  in  the  Dark 66 

VIII  A  New  Alliance 78 

IX  The  Road  to  Silver  Springs 88 

X  Covering  the  Trail 99 

XI  Mutual  Recognition 109 

XII  Story  of  the  "Frisco  Kid" 120 

XIII  A  New  Viewpoint 131 

XIV  The  Hand  from  the  Rock 141 

XV  Within  the  Tunnel 151 

XVI  The  Passage  Out 161 

XVII  Two  of  a  Kind 171 

XVIII  More  Complications 181 

XIX  Kelleen  Becomes  Master 191 

XX  Talking  It  Over 201 

XXI  Alone  on  the  Desert 211 

XXII  The  Border  Patrol 221 


M545683 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER  PAGE 

XXIII.    "Alvara's  Lost  Mine" 231 

XXIV     A  Duel  in  the  Dark 241 

XXV     The  Light  Goes  Out 250 

XXVI     In  on  a  New  Game 260 

XXVII     Face  to  Face 270 

XXVIII     The  Spoils  of  Crime 279 

XXIX     The  Finding  of  Gomez 288 

XXX.    The  Message  of  Life 299 


GIFT  OF  THE  DESERT 


Gift  of  the  Desert 


CHAPTER  I 

THE  CHOICE 

IT  WAS  a  wonderful  thing  to  be  twenty-three,  full 
of  hope  and  ambition,  and  in  the  wide  out-of-doors; 
more  wonderful  still  to  possess  the  glorious  memory 
of  nearly  two  years  in  the  hospitals  of  France,  six 
months  of  that  time  just  behind  the  American  fighting 
line.  Yet  the  girl  was  not  thinking  of  this  then  as  she 
sat  there  alone  at  the  edge  of  the  ravine,  gazing  silently 
off  across  the  dull  leagues  of  desert  to  where  a  distant 
blue  range  of  mountains  cut  off  the  view  with  their 
ragged  summits.  It  was  a  marvelous,  somber  scene 
stretched  out  below,  a  drear  desolation,  without  move- 
ment or  the  slightest  semblance  of  life.  An  hour  ago 
it  had  been  wrapped  in  heat  waves,  a  misty  miracle, 
sometimes  appearing  as  a  vast  sea,  but  now,  as  the  sun 
sank  slowly  behind  those  distant  serrated  peaks,  darker 
shadows  lay  along  the  level  surface,  with  gleams  here 
and  there  of  gray  and  red,  while  arching  over  all  hung 
the  clear  Arizona  sky,  slowly  turning  to  purple. 

(1) 


GIFT  OF  THE  DESERT 


Nor  was  she  thinking  of  these  magic  changes.  She 
had  noted  them  all,  appreciative  of  their  beauty,  and 
comparing  that  sun-kissed  vista  with  other  sunsets  in 
France  and  Germany,  when  the  ground  was  yet  red  with 
the  blood  of  sacrificed  manhood.  Her  heart  ached 
still  with  the  sad  memory  that  would  not  die  —  hours 
of  toil,  scenes  of  suffering.  But  this  mood  had  also 
passed  away,  and  now,  although  her  eyes  were  still 
upon  that  outspread  picture  below,  her  thought  had 
centered  upon  the  present  in  a  dull  wonderment  at  the 
strange  situation  surrounding  her.  Why  had  she  ever 
consented  to  come  to  this  place?  to  this  jumping-off  spot 
of  creation?  Why  had  she  ever  listened  to  the  plea  of 
old  Tom  Meager,  back  there  in  Chicago,  and  finally, 
partially  from  pity,  partially  from  that  new  love  of 
adventure  engendered  within  her  by  service  across  the 
water,  agreed  to  come  West  with  him  ?  Of  course,  she 
never  had  dreamed  what  it  really  would  be  like  —  life 
on  this  vast  isolated  ranch  along  the  southern  border, 
with  the  drear  desert  stretching  away  on  every  side 
from  this  little  oasis  of  water  and  grass.  Tom  Meager 
had  never  told  the  whole  story;  he  had  dwelt  on  the 
loneliness  of  his  sick  wife,  the  chance  she  had  of  re- 
gaining health,  with  proper  nursing  and  care;  the  rare 
beauty  of  the  sunsets,  the  wonderful  glow  of  the  cool 
desert  nights,  the  wild,  free  existence  of  the  range,  filled 

(2) 


THE  CHOICE 


with  excitement  and  a  dash  of  danger.  It  all  had 
appealed  to  her  strangely  —  the  service,  the  complete 
change  in  environment,  the  escape  from  the  humdrum 
life  of  the  Marine  Hospital.  The  pay  was  good,  the 
opportunity  excellent,  and  she  had  said  "yes"  without 
half  realizing  then  what  it  all  meant. 

But  she  realized  now.  Those  first  few  weeks  had 
been  glorious  indeed.  She  found  everything  new, 
attractive,  tinged  with  romance  and  color.  She  liked 
Mrs.  Meager,  and  discovered  her  task  to  be  an  easy 
one,  her  time  largely  at  her  own  disposal.  So  far  as 
labor  was  concerned,  the  position  was  ideal;  she  was 
companion  rather  than  nurse.  But  it  was  lonely,  ter- 
ribly lonely;  and,  after  those  first  few  weeks  nothing 
seemed  to  occur  to  break  the  dull  monotony.  It  was 
sixty  miles  over  a  half-obliterated  desert  trail  to  the 
nearest  town,  and  that  little  more  than  a  general  store, 
and  a  cattle  corral.  The  only  link  between  there  and 
the  civilization  she  had  left  to  the  eastward,  were  the 
glistening  rails  of  a  railroad  skirting  the  edge  of  the 
hills,  and  vanishing  amid  the  sand.  Once  or  twice  a  day 
a  tiain  passed  east  or  west,  a  wisp  of  smoke  showing 
on  the  horizon,  only  to  be  quickly  blown  away  by  the 
never-ceasing  wind. 

Day  by  day,  week  following  week,  she  saw  the  same 
faces,  heard  the  same  voices.     Riders  from  the  outer 

O) 


GIFT  OF  THE  DESERT 


range  came  in  with  their  reports,  bringing  tales  of  Mex- 
ican raiders,  or  of  cattle  strayed  into  the  desert.  Once 
a  party  of  rangers  rode  by  on  the  trail  of  a  horse  thief, 
and  once  again  a  squad  of  cavalrymen  from  some  fron- 
tier fort  farther  to  the  north  camped  overnight  behind 
the  stables.  By  dawn  they  were  gone.  Whenever  she 
could  she  rode  about  with  old  Tom  Meager,  in  and  out 
the  ravines,  and  occasionally  far  beyond  into  the  vast 
sand  plains,  listening  to  his  quaint  tales  of  adventures, 
and  helping  him  round  up  bunches  of  strayed  stock. 
She  became  expert  in  the  saddle,  learned  to  use  a  gun 
skilfully,  and  even  picked  up  some  knowledge  of  the 
lariat.  Thus,  little  by  little,  she  had  adapted  herself 
to  the  rough  life,  determined  to  keep  her  word,  but 
nevertheless  growing  constantly  more  and  more  heart- 
sick. 

Then  Tom  Meager  came  to  his  death.  Riding  home 
alone  from  Nogales  at  night,  in  the  dark  of  Silver 
Canyon,  his  horse  slipped  and  fell,  and  Meager  lay  there 
on  the  rocks  motionless.  A  packer  found  his  body  the 
next  day,  and  brought  it  on  to  the  ranch.  In  some  way 
the  message  of  the  old  man's  passing  crossed  the  border 
line  down  far  into  old  Mexico,  until  it  reached  the  ears 
of  his  son,  God  alone  knows  where.  Three  days  after 
the  burial  this  wanderer  of  many  years  returned,  drove 
his  saddle  horse  into  the  corral,  and  assumed  control. 

C4) 


THE  CHOICE 


Whatever  might  be  his  legal  right,  there  was  none  to 
oppose  his  bold  assumption  of  authority,  or  manage- 
ment. The  widow  lay  helpless  on  her  bed ;  she  was  not 
the  boy's  mother,  and  he  never  so  much  as  crossed  the 
threshold  of  her  room.  If  there  had  been  a  will,  no 
one  searched  for  it,  or  made  inquiries.  By  sheer  force 
and  audacity  Bob  Meager  took  command,  asking  per- 
mission of  no  one. 

For  some  days  after  his  arrival  the  girl  did  not  even 
encounter  this  new  master.  She  dared  not  leave  her 
patient  either  day  or  night,  and  the  man  was  never  at 
the  ranchhouse  except  to  fling  himself  on  the  bed  and 
sleep.  From  dawn  to  dark  he  was  in  the  saddle,  famil- 
iarizing himself  with  every  detail  of  his  new  possessions. 
She  had  no  desire  to  meet  him,  for  long  ago  his  story 
had  been  told  to  her — not  by  old  Tom,  who  never 
spoke  his  son's  name,  or  the  patient,  invalid  wife,  but 
by  others,  long  in  the  Meager  service,  glad  now  of  an 
opportunity  to  gossip  with  a  stranger.  It  was  a  story 
of  brutal  shame;  of  base  ingratitude,  verging  on  crime; 
of  sudden  disappearance;  of  vague  rumors  floating  back 
from  here  and  there,  bearing  the  tale  of  a  wild,  dis- 
reputable life.  To  her  Bob  Meager  had  become  the 
synonym  of  all  that  was  evil  in  this  borderland.  Yet 
now,  through  some  strange  play  of  fate,  he  was  here, 
and  she  was  left  helplessly  in  his  power,  under  his 

(5) 


GIFT  OF  THE  DESERT 


orders,  wholly  dependent  on  him  for  employment. 
[The  thought  was  almost  maddening. 

They  finally  met  the  morning  of  the  fifth  day,  unex- 
pectedly, when,  without  even  knocking,  the  fellow  strode 
into  the  widow's  room  unceremoniously.  The  girl,  in 
her  nurse's  uniform,  arose  hastily  to  her  feet,  and  con- 
fronted the  rude  intruder  indignantly,  her  eyes  blazing 
with  sudden  antagonism.  Meager  came  to  a  surprised 
halt,  staring  straight  at  her  in  astonishment. 

"  Who  are  you  ?  "  he  asked  gruffly,  yet  with  a  measure 
of  doubt  in  the  tone.    "  Some  poor  relative? " 

"  Not  quite  as  bad  as  that,"  she  answered,  resenting 
his  manner,  yet  endeavoring  to  control  her  speech.  "  I 
am  Mrs.  Meager's  nurse." 

"Nurse!"  he  sneered  sarcastically.  "  Good  Lord, 
so  the  old  man  stood  for  that,  did  he  ?  Well,  you  can 
hardly  expect  me  to ;  it  is  more  than  my  mother  ever 
had.    Do  you  know  who  I  am?" 

11 1  presume  you  must  be  Robert  Meager." 

"  You  guessed  right,  and  IVe  come  back  here  to  run 
this  ranch;  you  get  me?" 

"Quite  clearly — yes." 

She  spoke  so  coldly,  with  so  little  apparent  Interest, 
as  instantly  to  anger  him. 

"  Oh,  you  do,  hey?  Then  I'll  enlighten  you  further. 
You're  Mrs.  Meager's  nurse,  you  said?    Pretty  soft 

(6) 


THE  CHOICE 


job,  isn't  it?  I  don't  believe  there  will  be  any  neces- 
sity for  her  having  a  nurse  very  long.  What's  your 
name?  " 

"  Deborah  Meredith." 

He  laughed,  showing  a  row  of  cruel  white  teeth. 

"Sounds  like  a  story  book;  where  did  the  old  man 
pick  you  up  ?  " 

"  My  home  is  in  Chicago." 

"Well,  he  certainly  showed  good  taste,  I'll  say  that 
for  him.  You  are  some  good-looker,  Deborah  Mere- 
dith.   I'm  damned  if  I  don't  rather  like  your  style." 

He  stared  at  her  insolently,  his  glance  appraising 
form  and  features  much  as  he  might  take  in  the  points 
of  some  animal  he  contemplated  purchasing.  The  girl's 
face  flushed  indignantly,  but  her  eyes  never  fell. 

"  You  sure  do  look  good  to  me,"  he  announced  finally, 
"and  I  don't  believe  I'll  fire  you  —  not  yet,  anyhow." 

"  It  will  not  be  at  all  necessary,"  she  said  quietly.  "  I 
shall  attend  to  that  for  myself." 

"You  will?    You  mean  you'll  quit?" 

"I  certainly  shall." 

"  Oh,  hell !  Spunky  little  tigress,  ain't  you  ?  I  reckon 
I'll  have  something  to  say  about  that." 

"You  mean  you  will  compel  me  to  remain  whether  I 
wish  to,  or  not?"  she  asked  in  surprise.  "Why,  that 
cannot  be  done;  I  am  not  a  slave." 

(7) 


GIFT  OF  THE  DESERT 


"  It  can't,  hey  ?    Do  you  know  where  you  are  ?  " 

"Certainly,  I  do." 

"  By  God,  I  doubt  it.  This  is  the  Meager  ranch  in 
Arizona.  There  ain't  another  outfit  within  fifty  miles, 
and  nothing  else  round  us  but  desert;  there  ain't  no 
water,  and  no  grass.  I'm  a-runnin'  things  here,  and 
you  bet  I  know  how  to  run  them.  There  ain't  no  gay 
galoot  coming  in  here  to  tell  Bob  Meager  what  he  shall 
do,  an'  what  he  shan't  do.  You  get  me  ?  I'm  the  boss ; 
before  another  week's  out  every  white  man  on  this 
ranch  will  be  hunting  a  job,  and  there'll  be  Mex  in  their 
places.  I  know  how  to  handle  Mex;  they'll  do  what  I 
say  —  you  bet  they  will.  So  Miss  Deborah  Meredith, 
how  is  it  you're  going  to  quit  before  ever  I  say  you  can? 
Aim  to  hoof  it  across  the  alkali  to  Nogales  ?  Ten  miles 
o'  that  stuff  would  break  your  heart.  You  better  think 
it  over." 

She  stood  erect,  looking  directly  at  him,  fully  realizing 
his  power  and  ruthlessness,  yet  still  unbelieving  that 
this  was  more  than  a  mere  idle  threat.  She  saw  him 
now  clearly  in  the  light  of  the  window,  and,  in  spite  of 
her  natural  courage,  the  girl's  heart  sank.  Was  there 
any  act  of  brutality  the  man  would  be  incapable  of  ?  He 
looked  the  very  incarnation  of  force,  of  ungovernable, 
unrestrained  temper.  He  was  big,  burly,  with  broad 
shoulders  and  a  deep  chest,  almost  a  giant  of  a  man, 

(8) 


THE  CHOICE 


but  it  was  the  face  which  bespoke  his  character.  Brute 
was  written  plainly  all  over  it,  seemingly  imprinted  on 
every  feature,  finding  clearest  expression  in  the  bold, 
staring  eyes,  and  the  bullying  chin,  yet,  at  the  moment, 
she  did  not  fear  him ;  instinctively  she  felt  the  coward 
skulking  back  of  his  brutishness,  confident  that  in  the 
end  he  would  never  dare  execute  his  boast. 

"I  prefer,"  she  said  quietly,  "not  to  discuss  the 
matter  now.  Surely  this  was  not  why  you  came  in 
here?" 

"I  sure  like  your  nerve,  little  girl,"  he  admitted 
admiringly.  "  No,  I  didn't  come  exactly  for  that,  but 
whatever  brought  me,  I've  changed  my  mind.  We'll 
let  things  go  on  just  as  they  are  at  present,  I  reckon. 
But  don't  you  ever  imagine  I  am  playing  with  you ;  law 
don't  count  for  much  out  here,  sister,  an'  what  I  say 
goes." 

She  watched  him  as  he  turned  and  went  out  the  door, 
her  hands  clinched,  a  wave  of  intense  hatred  surging 
over  her.  Yet  in  another  moment  she  had  conquered 
herself,  and  moved  quietly  back  to  the  side  of  the  bed 
on  which  her  patient  lay  sobbing.  She  bent  above  the 
distressed  woman. 

"  He  is  worse  even  than  I  thought,"  she  said,  unable 
to  wholly  hide  her  distress.  "What  caused  him  to 
come  in  here,  do  you  suppose?" 

(9) 


GIFT  OF  THE  DESERT 


"He  came  to  send  me  away,"  answered  the  other, 
clasping  the  girl's  hands.  "  I  knew  it  would  not  be 
long;  he  has  disliked  me  always." 

"  Send  you  away !  Why  you  were  his  father's  wife. 
Even  if  there  was  no  will  you  must  have  dower  rights 
in  the  estate.    Surely,  that  is  the  law." 

UI  —  I  do  not  know,"  wearily.  "Tom  never  ex- 
plained anything  to  me,  but — but  I  am  afraid  of  Bob 
Meager.  You  don't  know  him  yet,  but  I  do;  he  will 
rule  or  ruin." 

"He  is  only  a  big,  blustering  coward,"  burst  forth 
Deborah  indignantly,  "  bullying  two  women.  I  am  not 
going  to  let  him  frighten  me." 

"Don't  cross  him;  don't  anger  him,"  the  other 
begged  piteously.  "He  is  dangerous  just  the  same, 
and  I  am  afraid  of  him,  for  your  sake  as  well  as  my 
own." 

"  What  do  you  want  me  to  do  ?  "  the  girl  questioned, 
influenced  by  the  timidity  of  the  other.  "  Let  that  beast 
have  his  own  way  with  me  ?  " 

"No  —  no,  not  that.  But  —  but  treat  him  fairly, 
Miss  Meredith.  He  will  not  always  be  as  he  is  today. 
As  he  said,  you  cannot  fight  or  run  away.  All  depends 
on  winning  his  favor.  Then  sometime  there  will  be  a 
chance.  We  must  wait  and  watch,  until  he  is  in  a  mood 
to  let  us  both  go.    But  even  if  there  was  a  way  for  you 

(10) 


THE  CHOICE 


to  escape  alone,  you  could  not  leave  me  here  in  his 
power." 

"You  fear  him  like  that?" 

"If  I  stand  between  the  man  and  this  fortune  his 
father  left,  my  life  is  worth  nothing — I  know  that." 

And  Deborah  Meredith,  looking  down  into  the  white 
face  lying  on  the  pillow,  made  her  choice. 


<%\  i 


CHAPTER  II 

MEAGER  STATES  HIS  PLAN 

IT  WAS  the  memory  of  this  scene  —  her  promise  to 
Mrs.  Meager,  and  her  dislike  of  Bob  Meager  — 
which  left  the  girl  unobservant  of  the  desert  view  out- 
spread below,  and  thoughtless  of  the  descending  night. 
She  had  sought  this  spot  to  be  alone,  to  escape  any 
possibility  of  encountering  Bob,  and  to  turn  over  once 
more  in  her  mind  the  conditions  which  had  made  her 
virtually  a  prisoner.  That  dreary  expanse  of  desert 
had  brought  home  afresh  her  helplessness,  the  brutal 
truth  of  his  words.  It  was  three  days  since  the  inter- 
view, but  she  had  not  again  met  the  man  during  that 
interval.  Whether  he  was  deliberately  avoiding  her, 
or  merely  busied  about  the  endless  work  of  the  ranch, 
she  was  unable  to  determine,  yet  the  very  indifference 
thus  shown  had  its  effect  on  her  imagination.  Appar- 
ently he  was  so  absolutely  sure  of  her  safety  he  felt  no 
necessity  for  even  a  guard  over  her  movements,  or  any 
call  to  repeat  his  threat.  She  had  been  left  free  to 
come  and  go  at  her  will,  while  he  ignored  her  very 
existence. 

Yet  she  could  not  accept  this  seeming  indifference  as 

(i2) 


MEAGER  STATES  HIS  PLAN 


real.  There  had  been  an  expression  in  the  man's  eyes 
that  had  frightened  her  more  than  she  would  even  con- 
fess to  herself — an  insolent  boldness,  a  sneering  domi- 
nance which  haunted  her  memory  with  its  sinister  threat. 
He  was  playing  with  her  as  a  cat  plays  with  a  mouse, 
biding  the  proper  time  to  strike.  He  knew  he  could 
afford  to  wait;  that  she  was  utterly  in  his  power.  His 
very  silence,  and  aloofness,  increased  her  alarm,  her 
dread  of  the  morrow.  Her  dislike  of  the  fellow  had 
grown  into  a  bitter  hatred,  while  every  change  about  the 
ranch  seemed  to  draw  the  chains  of  captivity  closer 
around  her.  His  insolent  neglect  left  the  impression 
that  it  also  was  a  part  of  the  game. 

Not  a  day  passed  without  witnessing  a  change  in  the 
personnel  of  the  ranch.  She  might  not  have  observed 
this,  but  for  her  own  personal  fear  and  suspicion.  Old 
Tom  Meager  would  never  employ  a  Mexican  on  the 
place,  nor  trust  them;  but  now,  one  by  one,  the  old 
hands  disappeared,  while  swarthy-skinned  riders  ap- 
peared mysteriously  to  take  their  places.  Where  they 
came  from,  how  the  word  had  been  sent  abroad,  she 
could  not  surmise,  yet  every  day  she  missed  familiar 
faces,  and  discovered  new  ones  about  the  bunkhouse. 
Even  the  old-time  cook  vanished  finally,  to  be  replaced 
by  a  Chinaman,  while  a  Mexican  girl  appeared  sud- 
denly to  assume  charge  of  the  ranchhouse.    Within  six 

(13) 


GIFT  OF  THE  DESERT 


days  the  transformation  was  practically  complete,  and 
Bob  Meager  was  surrounded  by  those  of  his  own  kind. 
Creatures  of  his  will,  denizens  of  that  world  he  knew 
best.  This  change  was,  to  Deborah's  mind,  ominous 
of  evil ;  it  increased  her  fear,  and  rendered  more  difficult 
any  possibility  of  escape.  The  walls  closed  her  more 
tightly  in.  As  she  saw  the  strange  faces  and  fanciful 
costumes  of  these  new  arrivals,  and  heard  their  native 
language  spoken,  she  realized  more  and  more  vividly 
her  own  increasing  helplessness,  and  shrank  from  con- 
fronting the  future.  What  was  the  true  meaning  of  all 
this?  What  did  this  man  plan  to  do  with  her?  The 
questions  could  not  be  answered;  she  could  only  wait 
fearfully  for  his  actions  to  make  reply.  Yet  it  must 
be  evil;  she  could  conceive  nothing  else  in  Bob  Meager's 
heart 

Again  and  again  the  puzzled,  troubled  girl  went  over 
in  memory  every  word  the  man  had  uttered,  every  act 
of  his  since  he  came.  Her  thought  was  not  with  the 
wild  desert  scene  outstretched  before  her,  or  the  beauty 
of  that  red  sunset  behind  those  far-off  peaks.  She  was 
not  even  conscious  of  her  more  immediate  surround- 
ings, remaining  totally  oblivious  to  the  solitary  horse- 
man, approaching  along  the  barely  discernible  trail 
skirting  the  edge  of  the  mesa.  The  horse  was  moving 
slowly,  with  wearily  drooping  head,  and  on  the  hard- 

(14) 


MEAGER  STATES  HIS  PLAN 


beaten  sand  the  hoofs  made  no  noise  sufficient  to  disturb 
her.  The  rider  lolled  in  the  deep  Mexican  saddle,  with 
sombrero  pulled  down  low  over  his  eyes,  seemingly  as 
tired  as  the  half-broken  mustang  he  bestrode,  and  occa- 
sionally hectored  with  a  sharp  spur.  The  two  climbed 
the  steeper  ascent  leading  up  the  side  of  the  mesa, 
winding  about  among  the  mesquite,  and  finally  emerging 
amid  the  chaparral  above.  It  was  on  the  farther  edge 
of  this  that  the  horseman  suddenly  perceived  the  girl, 
her  white  skirt  showing  conspicuous  in  the  purple  light, 
and  quickly  held  up  his  pony.  A  glow  came  into  his  tired 
eyes  as  he  made  sure  of  her  identity,  and  he  leaned  for- 
ward over  the  pommel  watching  her  resting  there  mo- 
tionless. She  had  evidently  neither  seen  nor  heard  his 
approach,  and  he  swung  silently  down  from  the  saddle, 
dropping  the  mustang's  rein  over  the  animal's  head, 
before  advancing  toward  her  on  foot.  It  was  not  until 
he  had  reached  a  very  few  yards  of  her  position  that 
Deborah  became  aware  of  some  presence  near,  and 
arose  instantly  to  her  feet,  facing  him  in  sudden  alarm. 
It  was  too  late  then  to  flee;  the  man  blocked  the  only 
path  available. 

"Frightened  you,  did  I?"  he  asked  carelessly,  flip- 
ping a  weed  with  his  quirt,  but  with  searching  eyes  on 
her  face.  "You  must  have  been  in  some  daydream, 
I'll  say." 

(15) 


GIFT  OF  THE  DESERT 


She  caught  her  breath  sharply  in  an  effort  at  self- 
control. 

"I  —  I  was  thinking,"  she  answered,  a  little  catch 
in  the  voice,  but  as  instantly  determining  to  tell  the 
truth,  and  thus  learn,  if  possible,  his  purpose,  "  of  what 
you  intended  to  do  with  me.  I  —  I  cannot  continue  to 
bear  things  as  they  are." 

"Why,  they  are  not  so  bad,  are  they?"  he  asked 
provokingly,  but  making  no  effort  to  advance.  "  This 
is  the  same  ranch  to  which  you  came  voluntarily;  I  have 
not  cut  down  your  wages,  and  the  food,  and  all  that,  is 
just  as  good.  Do  you  mean  you  don't  like  it  here  any 
longer?" 

"  I  certainly  do  not  under  the  circumstances.  I  am 
no  longer  here  of  my  own  free  will." 

"Oh,  is  that  it?  Well,  perhaps  we  can  remedy  that 
trouble.  In  fact,  that  is  the  very  matter  I  rather  wanted 
to  talk  to  you  about.  It  is  mighty  lucky  I  found  you  out 
here  all  alone,  where  maybe  we  can  come  to  an  under- 
standing.   Sit  down  there  again  while  we  talk  it  over." 

"I  prefer  to  stand." 

"All  right  then,  only  it  ain't  going  to  do  you  no  good 
to  be  offish  about  it.  I'll  tell  you  that  at  the  start.  You 
ought  to  know  by  this  time  that  I  ain't  the  playing  sort. 
Found  any  way  to  leave  yet?  I  reckon  not,  or  you 
wouldn't  be  here.     Well,  that  lesson  ought  to  mean 

(16) 


MEAGER  STATES  HIS  PLAN 


something  to  you.  I've  left  you  alone  for  three  days 
now,  just  to  let  it  sink  in." 

"  That  I  could  not  escape  from  here  without  assist- 
ance?" 

"Sure;  there  ain't  no  way  for  a  woman  —  a  tender- 
foot—  to  get  across  that  desert  without  help  of  some 
kind,  and  a  horse.  I  reckon  you  are  smart  enough  to 
know  that.  It  was  mostly  on  your  account  I  sent  them 
old  punchers  away,  an'  got  a  lot  o'  Mex  in  to  ride  herd, 
an'  do  whatever  odd  jobs  were  needed.  You  ain't  liable 
to  pick  up  no  friendships  with  that  gang.  Knew  some 
of  the  old  hands,  didn't  you?" 

"A  few,"  she  admitted.  a  I  rode  about  considerably 
at  first." 

"So  I  heard  tell.  Now  there  ain't  nobody  round 
who  cares  a  whoop  in  hell  what  happens.  You  better 
let  that  fact  soak  in,  too,  first  of  all.  Then  it  will  be 
easier  for  us  to  come  to  an  understanding." 

"An  understanding?"  she  asked  in  surprise.  "You 
desire  to  explain  then?    Yet  first  you  threaten  me?" 

He  laughed. 

"Threaten,  hell!  I  don't  have  to  threaten;  I'm 
holding  all  the  cards."  He  took  a  step  forward,  and, 
as  the  girl  drew  slightly  back  from  his  approach,  his 
face  quickly  darkened  with  anger.  "You  don't  want 
me  to  touch  you,  hey?  or  come  near  you?    All  right, 

(17) 


GIFT  OF  THE  DESERT 


I'll  wait,  but  just  the  same  you'll  do  just  what  I  tell  you 
to.  Sit  down  there  on  that  log.  I've  got  quite  a  bit  to 
say  to  you  yet  an'  I  don't  want  you  standing  up  there, 
staring  at  me.    You  hear  me  ?    Sit  down !  " 

She  took  the  place  designated,  realizing  the  utter 
uselessness  of  refusal,  while  he  remained  standing,  with 
one  foot  insolently  planted  on  the  log  beside  her. 
Through  the  gathering  dusk  she  could  see  his  face  and 
its  expression  was  far  from  reassuring.  He  was  bru- 
tally sure  of  his  power. 

"Very  well,"  she  said,  forcing  a  strange  calmness 
into  her  voice,  "  I  will  listen  to  what  you  have  to  say." 

"  Listen !  I  rather  guess  you  will.  I  like  your  damn 
nerve,  but  you'll  find  out  I've  got  some  myself.  Now, 
see  here,  Miss  Deborah  Meredith.  A  week  ago  I  didn't 
even  know  you  existed.  But  after  we  had  that  little 
seance  together  the  other  day  in  the  old  lady's  room,  I 
made  up  my  mind  that  I  was  going  to  give  you  a  lesson, 
You  didn't  like  me,  did  you?" 

He  stopped,  but  she  did  not  answer,  although  her 
eyes  met  his  own. 

"  Come  on !  talk  up.  I  know  you  didn't;  but  I  want 
to  hear  you  say  so." 

"  It  certainly  is  true." 

"  Sure  it's  true.    Why  in  hell  shouldn't  it  be?    The 

old  man  had  filled  you  full " 

(18) 


MEAGER  STATES  HIS  PLAN 


"  Your  father  never  once  spoke  of  you  to  me." 

"Then  my  precious  stepmother  did." 

"  Only  in  reply  to  some  questions,  but  nevertheless, 
I  knew.  I  am  not  going  to  deny  that  I  was  prejudiced 
against  you,  and  your  conduct  and  words  the  other  day 
were  not  likely  to  change  my  opinion.  If  it  is  necessary 
for  me  to  answer,  I  will  —  I  do  not  like  you,  Bob 
Meager." 

The  man  grinned  almost  cheerfully. 

"Some  fellows  might  get  mad  at  that,  but  I  don't. 
I  rather  enjoy  it.  Why?  Because  I've  got  you  where 
it  don't  make  any  damn  difference.  That's  why.  As 
long  as  I  want  you,  I'm  going  to  have  you.  I  knew 
exactly  how  you  felt,  and  maybe  that  was  what  made 
me  swear  I'd  have  you  anyhow.  I  don't  care  what  you 
think  o'  me.  Likely  I'm  even  worse  than  that;  but 
from  the  first  minute  I  seen  you  in  that  white  uniform, 
I  made  up  my  mind  you  was  the  girl  I  wanted;  and  I 
made  up  my  mind,  too,  that  it  wasn't  any  use  of  my 
trying  to  make  love  to  you  —  not  a  damn  bit.  You'd 
just  laugh  at  that.  So  I  went  to  work  and  figured  out 
another  way." 

"To  get  me?"  in  growing  horror.  "To  get  me? 
for  what?" 

"  Oh,  it's  all  going  to  be  honorable,  so  don't  let  that 
worry  you  now.    This  is  going  to  be  a  square  deal,  only 

(19) 


GIFT  OF  THE  DESERT 


I  handle  the  cards  —  see?  The  first  thing  I  had  to  da 
was  to  build  a  hog-tight  fence  around  this  ranch,  so  you 
couldn't  get  out.  Nature  helped  some,  for  with  forty 
miles  of  desert  one  way,  and  sixty  the  other,  there 
wasn't  much  chance  left.  But  I  thought  maybe  you  had 
made  friends  with  some  of  those  cowboys,  and  the  safest 
way  was  to  clean  them  all  out,  and  get  Mexican  herders 
instead.  They'd  do  whatever  I  said,  and  kick  up  no 
fracas.  Well,  there  was  plenty  of  that  kind  to  be  had, 
and  now  there  ain't  another  white  man  left  on  the 
place.    You  know  that,  don't  you?  " 

"Yes,"  slowly,  "I  know  that." 

"It's  worth  thinking  over;  it  means  I'm  the  boss; 
that  what  I  say  here  goes.  I  ain't  been  bothering  you 
any  meanwhile.  I  hain't  spoken  to  you  since  that  first 
time.  There  wasn't  no  use.  I  saw  in  your  eye  what 
sort  o'  girl  you  was,  and  just  about  what  you  thought  o' 
me.  But  I'd  made  up  my  mind  what  I  was  after,  and 
how  I  was  going  to  get  it.  I  didn't  have  any  notion  of 
coming  to  you  again  until  I  had  the  cards  stacked — 
see?" 

"And — and  now  you — you  are  ready  to  play,  and 
have  come?" 

"  Correct.  I  can't  lose.  You  got  to  do  what  I  say, 
whether  you  like  it  or  not.  Maybe  you  don't  just  get 
this  straight?     Well,  listen.     In  the  first  place  I  am 

(20) 


MEAGER  STATES  HIS  PLAN 


Bob  Meager,  and,  I  reckon,  you  never  heard  nothin' 
very  soft  about  me.  It's  pretty  generally  known  around 
here  that  I  am  a  he-man,  and  that  I  usually  get  what  I 
go  after.    You  know  that,  don't  you  ?  " 

"I  —  I  have  heard  of  your  methods  —  yes." 

11 1  thought  most  likely  you  had.  Well,  that's  one 
point.  I  ain't  the  kind  to  play  soft  with ;  when  I  get  my 
hair  up  I'm  a  bear-cat.  The  second  point  is,  I'm  the 
real  boss  of  this  ranch ;  it's  mine,  and  I've  got  the  papers 
to  prove  it.    Now,  do  you  get  the  picture?  " 

It  was  almost  dark,  but  she  could  still  distinguish  his 
face,  as  he  leaned  forward  peering  at  her.  There  was 
no  doubt  as  to  the  real  meaning  of  the  man,  and  she 
comprehended  fully  her  own  helplessness  of  resistance. 
All  she  could  hope  to  do  now  was  to  cause  delay,  to 
thus  win  a  chance  to  think  and  act.  Her  breath  seemed 
to  choke  her,  and  almost  prevent  speech,  and  yet  her 
mind  desperately  grasped  at  this  one  opportunity. 

"Yes,"  she  managed  to  say,  marveling  at  the  calm- 
ness with  which  she  spoke,  and  now  on  her  feet  facing 
him.  "  I  think  I  know  what  you  mean.  You  have  me 
completely  in  your  power ;  you  have  planned  it  all  out, 
and  now  there  isn't  a  friend  here  whom  I  can  call  on 
for  help,  while  no  way  of  escape  has  been  left  open. 
That  is  what  you  want  me  to  realize,  I  suppose  that  I 
know  your  full  power." 

(21) 


GIFT  OF  THE  DESERT 


"That's  the  ticket.  Now  there  ain't  no  use  your 
getting  mad.  I  like  you ;  I  like  you  awfully  well,  and 
I'm  going  to  be  mighty  square  with  you.  But  there 
wasn't  any  other  way  for  me  to  get  you  —  was  there  ?" 

"  No,"  she  said  frankly,  "  there  was  no  other  course 
possible." 

"  Which  means  you  don't  like  me  at  all  ?  " 

14  It  means  all  of  that,  and  more,  Bob  Meager.  I  do 
not  believe  I  ever  despised  anyone  so  much  in  my  life 
as  I  do  you.  I  disliked  you  before  I  ever  saw  you ;  now 
I  hate  the  very  ground  you  walk  on.  Have  you  any  use 
for  me  after  that?" 

"You  just  bet  I  have,"  he  grinned.  "You're  sure  a 
wildcat,  but  I'll  tame  you.  Damn  it!  I  like  it  in  you; 
you're  not  the  wishy-washy  kind.  One  of  us  has  got  to 
be  boss ;  I  saw  that  from  the  very  first,  and  that's  what 
this  means  now;  I'm  going  to  be  the  one." 

"  In  what  way  do  you  mean?  " 

"  Haven't  you  got  the  idea  yet?  I'm  going  to  marry 
you  —  see?  I  took  the  notion  the  first  time  I  saw  you 
—  you're  exactly  my  style.  But  I  know'd  then  there 
wasn't  but  one  way  to  do  it.  Now  I'm  ready  to  talk 
business.  How  is  it,  my  lady,  going  to  be  nice  about  it?  " 

She  endeavored  to  rally  her  courage,  even  attempting 
a  laugh. 

"  Marry  you?  Not  in  this  world.  I  know  you  are 
(22) 


MEAGER  STATES  HIS  PLAN 


a  scoundrel,  but  I  never  thought  you  were  a  fool 
before;' 

"  No,  and  you  never  will  again/'  his  voice  hardening. 
"  Because  you  will  have  no  chance.  It  is  nothing  to  me 
whether  you  say  yes,  or  no.  I  been  down  in  Nogales 
today,  an'  among  other  things  I  got  a  marriage  license. 
It's  right  here  in  my  pocket,  an'  the  names  written  in  it 
are  '  Robert  Meager  and  Deborah  Meredith.'  And 
that  ain't  all ;  sometime  between  now  and  ten  o'clock  a 
justice  of  the  peace  is  going  to  drive  in  here  to  do  up 
the  business  for  us.  That's  why  I'm  telling  you  all  this 
—  so  you  can  sorter  brace  up,  and  get  ready." 

She  made  no  attempt  to  move,  or  to  speak;  she 
seemed  paralyzed,  staring  at  him  through  the  gathering 
darkness. 

"  I  ain't  going  to  touch  you  now,"  he  went  on  sullenly, 
angered  by  her  silence.  "  But  you  just  think  it  over, 
and  go  on  back  to  the  house.  When  I  send  for  you,  you 
better  come ;  that's  all." 

He  turned,  and  walked  back  to  his  horse,  and  she 
stood  there,  trembling  in  every  limb,  as  he  vanished 
amid  the  shadows. 


(23) 


CHAPTER  III 

THE  MESSAGE  FROM  THE  BTJNKHOUSE 

DEBORAH  sank  back  upon  the  log,  her  eyes  fol- 
lowing the  dim  outline  of  the  man's  burly  figure 
until  it  disappeared  along  the  trail  leading  toward  the 
ranchhouse.  He  did  not  mount  the  horse,  but  plunged 
forward  on  foot,  the  animal  trailing  behind.  The  sound 
of  movement  died  away,  and  about  her  was  impressive 
stillness.  She  could  hear  the  rapid  beating  of  her  own 
heart,  the  grating  as  her  fingers  convulsively  dug  into 
the  soft  bark  of  the  log.  She  understood  now,  clearly, 
definitely,  just  what  she  was  called  upon  to  face.  Bob 
Meager  had  not  minced  his  words,  or  left  anything  to 
imagination.  He  had  been  brutally  frank,  revealing 
his  real  nature  in  all  he  had  said  and  done.  She  had 
no  illusions;  he  had  planned  this  deliberately,  in  cold 
blood,  and  he  had  the  will,  and,  perhaps,  the  power,  to 
carry  it  out. 

At  first  she  was  in  a  white  flame  of  indignation;  she 
even  laughed  hysterically  at  the  fellow's  threat.  It 
seemed  preposterous,  absurd,  a  dream  of  delirium. 
Marry  him !  Marry  that  degenerate  brute !  Why,  she 
would  rather  die  a  hundred  deaths  than  have  him  even 

(24) 


THE  MESSAGE  FROM  THE  BUNKHOUSE 

touch  her.  She  hated,  despised  him,  and  there  flashed 
to  her  mind  one  memory  after  another  of  what  had 
been  told  her  of  his  past  —  cowardly,  cruel  deeds, 
spoken  of  in  whispers;  a  shooting  affray  in  Nogales;  a 
woman  deserted  and  left  to  die ;  an  arrest  for  robbery 
somewhere  in  New  Mexico;  a  duel  over  a  gambling 
table;  a  rumor  of  gun-running  across  the  Mexican 
border — these  were  but  part  of  what  she  had  heard 
before  they  ever  met.  Now  she  read  the  truth  pic- 
tured in  the  man's  face  and  manner,  and  shrank  from 
him  in  horror.  He  was  a  foul,  brutal  cur !  Yet  even 
as  she  realized  this,  shrinking  in  terror  from  any  pos- 
sible contact  with  him,  there  arose  in  her  mind  a  sense 
of  fear,  a  grim,  persistent  fear  she  could  not  conquer. 
He  was  ruthless,  merciless.  If  he  truly  desired  her, 
nothing  would  be  permitted  to  stand  in  his  way;  he 
would  hesitate  at  no  crime  in  the  gratification  of  aroused 
passion.  He  had  not  been  drinking  when  he  talked 
with  her;  he  had  spoken  soberly  and  with  full  knowl- 
edge of  what  he  said.  Fiendish  as  it  was,  he  had  acted 
deliberately  and  in  cold  blood.  That  made  it  all  the 
more  dangerous,  for  he  would  likely  drink  now  and 
become  an  utter  fiend.  Within  an  hour  he  would  be 
raging  drunk,  capable  of  any  indignity,  any  wild  act. 
A  brute  sober,  he  became  a  demon  drunk.  And  she 
must  face  it  —  alone!     This  was  the  conviction  that 

(25) 


GIFT  OF  THE  DESERT 


slowly  took  full  possession  of  her  mind.  At  first  she 
failed  wholly  to  realize  the  situation.  It  seemed  to  be 
too  outrageous  to  be  possible,  but  gradually  the  bitter 
truth  came  home,  leaving  her  stupefied  and  helpless. 
This  was  no  dream,  but  a  fact.  His  threat  was  not  an 
idle  one.  He  could  turn  contemptuously  away  and 
leave  her  there,  completely  confident  that  she  could 
not  escape.  She  was  in  his  toils  as  utterly  as  though 
he  had  her  locked  in  a  room,  or  trussed  her  about  with 
a  rope's  end.  There  was  no  spot  of  safety  to  which 
she  could  fly,  no  friend  to  whom  she  could  appeal.  Her 
apparent  freedom  was  a  mere  mirage ;  she  was  a  pris- 
oner in  a  cell  —  her  cell  this  isolated  ranch,  surrounded 
by  leagues  of  impassable  desert. 

She  gazed  hopelessly  out  into  the  black  void;  not  a 
light  gleamed  anywhere  except  from  those  distant  stars 
overhead.  How  terribly  desolate  it  all  was,  long  miles 
of  sand  and  alkali,  with  nothing  to  break  the  drear 
monotony  except  stunted  greasewood  and  cactus,  among 
which  wound  the  barely  discernible  trail.  No  glimmer 
of  water,  no  shimmer  of  green,  no  animal  or  bird  life 
amid  the  solitude.  She  remembered  it  all  with  a  shud- 
der, a  deadening  sense  of  facing  the  impossible.  There 
was  but  one  way  leading  across  that  expanse,  the  single 
trail  connecting  with  the  pass  through  the  mountain 
canyon  beyond.    There  might,  of  course,  be  others  — 

(26) 


THE  MESSAGE  FROM  THE  BUNKHOUSE 

known  to  Indian  or  outlaw  —  but  this  path  was  the 
only  one  she  ever  had  traveled.  And  it  never  could  be 
traversed  alone  on  foot.  Perhaps  if  she  had  time  in 
which  to  plan,  to  prepare,  it  might  be  done  —  food, 
water,  a  horse,  a  few  hours  start  in  the  darkness,  might 
lead  to  success  —  but,  Meager  had  given  her  no  oppor- 
tunity. If  she  plunged  forth  into  that  black,  trackless 
void  afoot,  it  would  be  to  certain  death,  unless  his  cow- 
boys found  her  in  time.  The  thought  promised  nothing 
but  suicide,  or  recapture.  She  shrank  back  nerveless 
from  the  trial. 

Yet,  was  there  any  other  hope  of  escape?  of  post- 
ponement even?  To  appeal  to  Bob  Meager  would 
accomplish  nothing.  She  knew  the  base  heart  of  the 
man  now  if  she  never  had  before ;  he  would  only  laugh, 
whether  she  came  to  him  with  reproaches  or  tears. 
And  there  was  no  one  else  —  not  a  single  white  man 
left  on  the  estate  to  her  knowledge;  not  an  officer  of 
the  law  nearer  than  Nogales.  The  justice  of  the  peace 
who  was  coming  out  to  marry  them !  Bah !  Whoever 
he  was,  he  would  assuredly  be  a  creature  of  Meager's 
own  choosing.  Some  despicable  crony  willing  enough 
to  obey  orders  for  a  price.  No  other  kind  would  be 
employed  under  the  circumstances.  And  Mrs.  Meager 
would  only  break  down  and  cry;  under  no  conditions 
could  she  be  of  the  slightest  service,  her  terror  of  her 

(27) 


GIFT  OF  THE  DESERT 


stepson  was  the  real  cause  of  her  nervous  breakdown. 
The  whole  deplorable  affair  must  be  concealed  from 
her  if  possible. 

No,  there  was  absolutely  no  one  to  rely  upon  but 
herself.  And  what  could  she  do  ?  The  girl  stood  up 
in  the  darkness,  her  hands  gripped,  her  eyes  on  the 
opening  through  the  chaparral  leading  toward  the 
house  —  the  trail  along  which  Bob  Meager  had  disap- 
peared. She  must  follow  him ;  there  was  nowhere  else 
for  her  to  go.  She  must  face  this  thing  alone,  with  all 
the  desperate  courage  she  could  muster.  Tears  would 
accomplish  nothing,  nor  bitter  anger.  If  the  worst 
came  she  must  act,  swiftly,  decisively — even  to  killing 
the  monster.  There  was  no  other  choice  left,  no  other 
possibility  of  escape.  This  awful  necessity  came  to  her 
almost  as  a  relief.  She  felt  justified,  happy  at  making 
the  final  decision.  Yes,  she  would  do  even  that;  she 
would  do  it  rather  than  submit.  It  was  the  lesser  evil  of 
the  two.  But  where  could  she  procure  a  weapon?  She 
possessed  none  of  her  own;  had  never  dreamed  of 
owning  such  a  thing,  yet  they  were  plentiful  enough 
about  the  ranch.  Surely  one  could  be  easily  secured, 
and,  once  in  her  possession,  she  knew  how  to  handle  it. 
Tom  Meager  had  taught  her  that. 

Impelled  by  this  thought  of  self-defense,  realizing 
clearly  that  she  could  turn  nowhere  else  with  any  hope 

(28) 


THE  MESSAGE  FROM  THE  BUNKHOUSE 

of  escaping  this  defilement;  that  she  could  neither  flee 
the  place  nor  find  assistance,  Deborah,  the  color  high 
in  her  cheeks,  her  lips  firm  pressed  in  determination, 
advanced  resolutely  through  the  darkness  toward  the 
house.  She  would  defend  herself  at  all  hazards ;  before 
she  would  submit  to  that  brute  she  would  shoot  to  kill. 
She  had  become  desperate  enough  to  find  peace,  and 
courage,  in  the  decision. 

The  men  of  the  home  ranch  were  evidently  at  supper, 
the  big  dining-hall  being  lighted,  and,  as  she  slipped 
past  the  unshaded  windows,  she  had  glimpse  of  the 
fellows  within  and  heard  their  voices  conversing  loudly 
in  Spanish.  They  were  a  motley  bunch,  scarcely  a  face 
down  the  long  table  that  was  not  vicious  and  depraved 
—  the  scum  of  Mexico,  the  majority  exhibiting  Indian 
blood,  with  not  a  familiar  countenance  among  them. 
She  lingered  an  instant  in  the  shadows  without,  listening, 
but  only  shivered  at  the  oaths  which  reached  her  ears. 
They  were  a  precious  gang  of  ruffians,  indeed,  worthy 
of  their  master,  and  the  girl  crept  away,  glad  to  escape 
the  sound  of  their  voices.  There  was  a  single  dim 
light  burning  in  the  bunkhouse,  but  no  sign  of  any  occu- 
pant. Undoubtedly  every  hand  on  the  place  was  at 
supper,  and  no  better  opportunity  could  be  found  in 
which  to  seek  for,  and  appropriate,  some  forgotten 
weapon.    She  advanced  cautiously,  listening  intently  for 

(29) 


GIFT  OF  THE  DESERT 


any  sound,  eager  to  accomplish  her  object.  Once  armed, 
she  would  feel  more  confident;  the  very  touch  of  a 
weapon  in  her  hand  would  bring  her  renewed  courage. 
The  bunkhouse  was  a  long  building  of  adobe,  the 
bunks  lining  the  walls,  open  at  both  ends,  the  only  light 
a  lantern  swung  from  a  center  beam.  The  glass  of  this 
was  blackened  with  smoke,  and  only  a  dim  radiance 
made  the  interior  barely  visible.  However,  there  were 
no  occupants;  a  glance  through  the  open  door  convinced 
Deborah  the  place  was  temporarily  deserted,  yet  that 
Mexican  gang  would  soon  be  trooping  out  again  from 
the  dining-hall,  and  she  would  have  but  a  few  minutes 
in  which  to  prosecute  her  search.  Without  hesitation, 
but  with  heart  beating  wildly,  she  slipped  silently  within, 
her  eager  eyes  swiftly  searching  the  vacant  bunks  and 
the  wooden  pegs  above,  on  which  dangled  a  miscella- 
neous collection  of  garments.  In  one  corner  was  a  pile 
of  saddles  and  other  horse  accouterments ;  the  whole 
place  reeked  with  the  smell  of  leather  and  was  filthy  in 
the  extreme.  The  girl,  nauseated  by  the  foul  odor, 
hesitated  to  penetrate  farther,  but  a  sudden  outburst 
of  laughter  pealing  through  the  open  windows  of  the 
dining-hall,  drove  her  desperately  forward.  Drawing 
her  skirts  close,  she  advanced  gingerly,  satisfied  that  if 
any  occupant  had  left  his  belt  behind  it  would  be  found 
in  one  of  the  bunks. 

(30) 


THE  MESSAGE  FROM  THE  BUNKHOUSE 

She  had  gone  entirely  down  one  side,  and  moved 
across  to  the  other  before  she  found  what  she  sought, 
her  heart  leaping  exultantly  as  she  perceived  the  gleam 
of  a  steel  barrel  in  the  dim  light.  It  lay  fully  exposed 
on  top  of  a  dirty  blanket,  a  wicked-looking  .44  in  a 
well-worn  holster,  with  a  belt  containing  a  half-dozen 
cartridges.  She  grasped  these  in  her  hands,  conscious, 
even  as  she  did  so,  of  the  sound  of  voices  outside.  The 
men  were  already  returning;  scarcely  a  moment  re- 
mained before  some  of  them  would  enter  the  upper 
door.  The  moment  was  sufficient  to  permit  the  fright- 
ened girl  to  dash  out  of  the  lower  entrance  into  the 
darkness  beyond,  and  crouch  there,  the  prize  still 
securely  in  her  hands,  waiting  opportunity  to  steal  away 
toward  the  protection  of  the  ranchhouse.  None  of  the 
fellows  chose  that  entrance,  but  surged  in  through  the 
other  without  a  care  in  the  world.  The  majority  were 
using  Spanish,  very  few  words  of  which  she  could  under- 
stand, but  she  gathered  from  what  was  said  that  the 
men  anticipated  a  drunken  revel  later  in  the  night  and 
were  quite  delighted  with  the  prospect. 

The  two  who  had  entered  first,  however,  stretched 
themselves  out  in  bunks  opposite  each  other,  puffing 
vigorously  on  their  cigarettes,  and  conversed  in  English, 
evidently  proud  of  the  accomplishment.  One  she  rec- 
ognized as  Juan  Sanchez,  who  had  accompanied  Bob 

(31) 


GIFT  OF  THE  DESERT 


Meager  on  his  return,  and  had  since  been  made  fore- 
man, a  swarthy,  evil-eyed  half-breed,  with  a  long  mus- 
tache and  a  livid  scar  on  one  cheek.  She  had  heard  he 
left  Mexico  in  fear  of  his  life,  and  he  treated  the  men 
under  him  as  slaves,  lashing  them  with  his  quirt,  and 
ruling  them  by  fear.  The  other  was  an  Indian,  a  mere 
boy,  but  with  cruel  mouth,  and  face  hideous  from  pock- 
marks.  Sanchez  called  him  Pedro,  yet  talked  to  him 
as  he  might  to  a  dog.  It  was  the  boy  who  questioned 
eagerly: 

"Vat  he  say,  senor?  the  man?  I  hear  eet  not  all, 
the  fools  they  make  so  mucha  noise.    We  have  fiesta?  " 

Sanchez  blew  a  cloud  of  smoke  into  the  polluted  air, 
flipping  the  ash  of  his  cigarette  onto  the  floor. 

"  Plenty  drink,  Pedro,"  he  said  indolently,  "  an*  no 
work  tomorrow.    The  boss  he  marry." 

"  Marry !  the  gringo  ?  How  that  be  again,  senor  ?  " 
and  Pedro  sat  up,  dangling  his  feet  over  the  edge  of 
the  bunk. 

Sanchez  laughed  grimly. 

"Ah,  Pedro,  I  forgot  you  were  there.  It  was  a  great 
night,  was  it  not ;  yet,  Santa  Anna !  it  counts  for  nothing 
this  side  the  line.  'Tis  no  senorita  of  Mexico  this  time, 
but  one  of  his  own  race,  which  is  different ;  now  he  marry 
for  long  while." 

"  He  marry  of  his  own  race  —  here  ?  " 

(32) 


THE  MESSAGE  FROM  THE  BUNKHOUSE 

"Sure;  you  have  seen  her;  she  cares  for  the  old 
senora." 

"The  girl  in  white ?" 

"  'Tis  she;  and  Madre  de  Dios,  I  would  it  was  I  who 
had  her,  Pedro!  Did  ever  you  see  such  eyes?  Sacra! 
I  would  ride  through  hell  to  make  her  smile  on  me." 

"  Pah  I "  indifferently,  "  she  is  too  pale  for  my  taste." 

"  Pale !  with  those  cheeks  and  lips !  My  blood  boils 
at  dream  of  her  kisses.  I'd  give  every  maid  in  Mexico 
for  such  as  her." 

"  'Tis  as  your  taste  runs,  senor;  but  hew  came  she  to 
love  this  fiend  of  an  Americano?" 

"  Love  him !  "  Sanchez  rocked  with  laughter.  "  Hell ! 
he  has  but  spoke  to  her  the  once,  to  my  knowledge.  I 
doubt  if  she  knows  yet  the  happiness  in  store  for  her. 
'Tis  what  I  like  about  him;  he  does  not  ask,  he  takes. 
Sacra!  he  got  the  other  so ;  she  hated  him,  yet  it  made 
no  difference.  'Twill  be  so  now;  the  girl  may  not  love 
him,  but  she  will  marry  him  when  he  say  the  word. 
Why?  because  she  cannot  help.  It  is  an  old  game  Senor 
Bob  plays;  he  is  the  devil's  own,  Pedro." 

The  Indian  crossed  himself  piously. 

"Dios,  'tis  true,"  he  admitted;  "have  I  not  felt  the 
smart  of  his  whip  ?  But  he  has  the  gold,  senor,  so  what 
is  it  to  us  what  he  does  with  the  girl?  " 

"You  are  right,  Pedro,"  the  other  admitted  grum- 


GIFT  OF  THE  DESERT 


blingly,  "yet  'tis  precious  little  of  that  gold  we  see  or 
handle.  Let's  stop  this  chatter  and  win  a  bit  of  sleep 
before  the  bout  begins." 

Sanchez  lay  back  upon  the  blankets,  while  the  Indian 
stretched  himself,  his  glance  wandering  over  the  bunch 
of  Mexicans  clustered  at  the  other  end  of  the  hut.  Evi- 
dently he  saw  nothing  of  interest  there,  for  he  also 
turned  over  and  rested  quietly  with  face  to  the  wall. 
Deborah,  scarcely  venturing  to  breathe,  her  heart  flut- 
tering with  terror,  but  her  hands  clasping  tightly  the 
heavy  revolver,  stole  silently  away  through  the 
darkness. 


(34) 


CHAPTER  IV 

THE  COMING  OF  THE  JUDGE 

ASSURED  that  the  way  was  clear,  Deborah  made 
.  a  quick  passage  across  the  open  space,  a  dim, 
ghostly  figure  fleeing  through  the  night,  and  succeeded 
in  obtaining  entrance  at  the  side  door  without  being 
observed.  Meager  was  in  one  of  the  front  rooms,  for, 
as  she  paused  breathless  in  the  hall,  she  heard  him 
swear  at  the  cook  in  Spanish,  and  the  sound  of  his  hated 
voice  hurried  her  movements.  Anything  was  preferable 
to  a  chance  meeting  with  him. 

First  of  all  she  must  safely  conceal  the  weapon  she 
had  stolen,  which  was  too  large  and  cumbersome  to  be 
carried  upon  her  person.  Its  disappearance  from  the 
bunkhouse  was  sure  to  be  discovered,  and,  while  she 
would  be  the  last  one  suspected  of  such  a  prank,  it  never- 
theless must  be  securely  hidden  away.  Her  own  room 
at  the  end  of  the  hall,  small,  but  neatly  furnished,  gave 
the  greatest  promise  of  security,  and  she  felt  a  decided 
sense  of  relief  when  she  finally  thrust  the  weapon  under 
various  articles  at  the  bottom  of  a  bureau  drawer.  It 
was  there,  ready  at  hand,  if  an  emergency  arose,  while 
she  felt  fully  prepared  to  make  use  of  it.    The  conver- 

(35) 


GIFT  OF  THE  DESERT 


sation  just  overheard  had  strengthened  her  resolve  to 
defend  herself  at  all  hazards. 

Certain  that  nothing  further  would  occur  until  after 
the  arrival  of  the  expected  guests  from  Nogales,  she 
stole  into  the  room  occupied  by  her  patient,  relieved  to 
find  Mrs.  Meager  sleeping  soundly.  She  had  dreaded 
the  necessity  of  explaining  to  the  woman  the  situation, 
and  very  willingly  permitted  her  to  sleep,  covering  her 
quietly,  and  then  stealing  silently  back  to  the  solitude 
of  her  own  room  to  think.  Locking  the  door,  she  sat 
down  wearily  at  the  window,  which  was  slightly  open, 
peering  anxiously  out  into  the  night,  the  cool  evening  air 
of  the  desert  caressing  her  hot  cheeks.  All  appeared  so 
calm  and  quiet  without,  it  seemed  impossible  that  a 
crisis  was  impending  —  that  the  lust,  passion,  brutality 
of  man  was  only  waiting  the  hour  of  outbreak.  Her 
mind  could  scarcely  comprehend  the  truth,  or  adjust 
itself  to  the  reality  of  danger.  With  cheek  resting  on 
her  arm,  the  girl's  thoughts  wandered,  unable  to  center 
themselves  wholly  upon  the  problem  she  confronted. 
It  seemed  unreal,  a  dim,  nebulous  dream  of  imagina- 
tion which  must  vanish  with  the  dawn  of  another  day. 

Another  day?  What  would  it  bring  to  her?  Mar- 
ried to  Bob  Meager?  death?  or  would  she  be  a  fugitive, 
with  the  stain  of  murder  on  her  soul?  She  shuddered, 
the  blood  seeming  to  stop  circulating  in  her  veins,  as 

(36) 


THE  COMING  OF  THE  JUDGE 


these  questions  brought  home  so  nakedly  the  situation. 
It  must  be  one  of  the  three;  there  was  no  alternative. 
If  she  had  retained  any  glimmer  of  doubt  before  as  to 
the  man's  purpose  toward  her,  it  had  vanished  utterly 
as  she  listened  to  the  conversation  of  those  two  accom- 
plices in  the  bunkhouse.  They  had  discussed  her  as 
coolly  as  they  would  the  disposal  of  a  steer  from  the 
range.  They  evidently  thought  as  little  about  it.  And 
Bob  Meager  had  exhibited  an  equally  brutal  disregard. 
He  had  openly  boasted  of  his  purpose  to  those  fellows, 
scattered  money  among  them,  no  doubt,  and  promised 
them  liquor  in  honor  of  the  coming  event.  It  was 
hideous.  She  was  the  butt  of  ridicule  among  that  low 
gang;  the  object  of  laughter  and  coarse  jokes;  held  as 
a  mere  chattel  to  be  played  with  and  then  cast  aside. 
God!  it  was  enough  to  craze  her.  And,  worst  of  all, 
the  fellow  was  fully  capable  of  this  infamy.  He  was 
but  repeating  an  old  offense.  Somewhere,  down  below 
those  mountains  that  marked  the  boundary  line,  a  girl 
of  another  race  had  met  this  same  fate  now  confronting 
her,  and  was  paying  the  price. 

Well,  she  would  never  pay  it,  or  if  she  must,  then  she 
would  choose  herself  what  that  price  should  be.  She 
felt  at  that  moment  that  she  could  kill  the  brute  as  she 
would  a  mad  dog.  It  was  a  duty,  a  privilege.  He  had 
no  right  to  live,  to  prey  on  women,  to  insult  and  defame 

(37) 


GIFT  OF  THE  DESERT 


her  own  womanhood.  And  there  were  no  other  means 
of  escape.  Again  and  again  her  mind  swept  about  the 
unbroken  circle;  the  chain  binding  her  was  complete; 
she  could  turn  nowhere  for  help ;  she  was  absolutely  a 
prisoner.  The  revolver  hidden  away  in  that  bureau 
drawer  alone  promised  protection.  There  were  tears 
in  her  eyes,  but  not  tears  of  weakness  or  of  pity;  her 
lips  were  firmly  set,  and  her  hands  clasping  the  window 
sill  were  steady  with  determination.  She  had  made  up 
her  mind. 

The  great  stars  overhead  rendered  the  outside  night 
dimly  visible.  She  could  see  the  bunkhouse,  and  the 
darker  figures  of  men  passing  between  her  and  the  lan- 
tern glow  within.  Occasionally  a  loud  voice  reached 
her  ears,  or  a  peal  of  ribald  laughter.  At  the  hateful 
sound  she  clenched  her  teeth  almost  savagely,  believing 
they  were  making  mock  of  her  misery.  The  rising 
desert  wind  rustled  through  the  trees  and  rattled  the 
window  above,  and  afar  off  toward  the  stables  a  dog 
barked  incessantly.  Except  for  these  sounds  all  was 
still,  desolate.  About  her  was  primitive  solitude;  she 
felt  the  isolation  as  never  before,  picturing !  to  her 
mind  those  leagues  of  barren  sand  in  every  direction, 
lying  silent  and  black,  hemmed  in  with  barriers  of  rock, 
deserted  and  dead  under  those  dim  stars.  She  was 
alone  —  alone !    Beyond  law,  justice,  mercy  even,  with- 

(38) 


THE  COMING  OF  THE  JUDGE 


out  a  friend,  a  hope ;  a  mere  atom  left  to  perish  at  the 
will  of  a  brute.    Even  God  had  deserted  her. 

Her  wrist  watch  had  stopped,  and  she  possessed  no 
knowledge  of  the  time,  yet  surely  it  must  be  late.  The 
respite  now  would  be  short;  those  who  were  coming  to 
carry  out  this  mockery  could  not  be  delayed  much 
longer.  She  even  hoped  now  they  would  come;  any- 
thing was  better  than  this  uncertainty,  this  horror  of 
waiting.  She  began  to  long  for  the  end,  the  call  to 
face  the  inevitable.  Far  preferable  now  to  act,  rather 
than  to  continue  to  endure  this  awful  strain  of  helpless 
anticipation.  She  was  ready,  desperate;  she  had 
counted  the  cost  and  chosen  her  course.  If  the  call 
would  only  come  while  she  retained  her  courage. 

She  wondered  where  Bob  Meager  was,  and  what  he 
was  doing.  There  was  no  movement  about  the  house, 
except  that  of  the  cook  in  the  detached  kitchen.  A  light 
burned  there  and  she  had  glimpses  of  him  occasionally, 
bustling  about.  The  fellow's  regular  work  would  have 
been  completed  long  ago ;  no  doubt  he  was  busily  pre- 
paring some  sort  of  feast  with  which  to  celebrate  the 
wedding.  The  wedding !  Her  wedding !  There  was 
the  harsh  mockery  of  laughter  in  her  voice  as  she  re- 
peated over  aloud  the  ironic  words.  Her  wedding! 
Girl-like  she  had  wondered  often  what  it  would  be  like. 
And  now  it  was  here ;  she  was  actually  waiting  the  hfcur, 

(39) 


GIFT  OF  THE  DESERT 


the  moment.  And  the  husband;  the  man  whom  Fate, 
or  the  devil,  had  brought  to  her  ?  He  was  waiting,  too, 
no  doubt,  alone  in  the  front  room  yonder,  drinking 
himself  into  a  reckless  courage,  becoming  a  greater 
demon  with  every  moment  of  delay.  It  was  too  much, 
too  much.  The  very  heart  seemed  to  go  out  of  her, 
and  she  buried  her  face  in  her  arms  on  the  sill,  her 
body  shaking  with  the  sobs  which  could  be  no  longer 
restrained. 

She  was  lying  there  still,  the  starlight  on  her  ruffled 
hair  and  one  upturned  cheek,  but  her  mood  had 
changed  to  that  of  wild,  passionate  despair.  .Tears  no 
longer  dimmed  her  eyes  that  were  staring  out  blankly 
into  the  night.  Suddenly  her  ears  caught  the  distant 
sound  of  horses'  hoofs  through  the  silence,  and  she  sat 
up,  gasping  for  breath,  once  more  clutched  by  fear. 
Yes,  they  were  actually  coming,  the  end  was  already  at 
hand;  he  had  not  lied  to  her,  not  merely  threatened  — 
he  was  really  brute  enough  to  carry  out  the  mad  scheme. 
She  was  upon  her  feet,  standing,  motionless  and  rigid, 
back  beyond  view,  when  the  little  party  rode  up  to  the 
main  door  of  the  ranchhouse,  which  opened  at  their 
approach,  a  startling  beam  of  light  flashing  from  within. 
She  leaned  forward,  every  nerve  tense  from  excitement, 
to  gain  glimpse  of  the  newcomers. 

There  were  but  three  in  the  company,  all  men,  and 

(40) 


THE  COMING  OF  THE  JUDGE 


they  had  ridden  far.  She  could  tell  this  even  in  that 
dim  reflection,  for  their  clothing  was  whitened  with  the 
dust  of  the  desert,  and  their  horses  advanced  wearily 
with  drooping  heads.  Yet  she  could  discern  little  more. 
Two  of  the  faces  she  could  not  distinguish  at  all,  one  a 
rather  trim  figure,  sitting  his  saddle  like  a  cavalryman; 
the  other  a  humping,  decidedly  ungainly  fellow,  topped 
with  a  broad  Mexican  sombrero  which  completely 
shaded  his  features.  These  two  remained  mounted,  but 
the  third  man  swung  instantly  down  from  the  saddle, 
noisily  greeting  Meager  as  he  stepped  into  the  open 
doorway.  He  was  a  heavily  built  American,  with 
coarse,  bloated  face,  and  wore  a  scraggly  beard.  When 
he  spoke  he  croaked  like  a  frog. 

"  Hullo,  Bob ! "  he  called  out,  waddling  forward. 
"Well,  I  got  here  all  right.', 

"So  I  see,"  with  no  special  cordiality  in  the  voice, 
which  was  hoarse  from  drink.  "And  you  didn't  come 
alone,  Garrity;  who  the  hell  is  with  you?" 

"Alone !  "  he  sputtered  out  a  laugh.  "  Did  you  think 
I'd  ride  across  that  damned  desert  at  night  alone  ?  Not 
for  all  the  money  you  got,  Bob  Meager.  Arvan  came 
along  with  me,  an'  out  here  at  Silver  Springs  we  run 
into  another  old  pard  o'  yours,  an'  persuaded  him  to 
ride  on  along  with  us.    Ain't  that  all  right?  " 

"  It  depends !     Damn  you,  Garrity,  I  told  you  this 

(41) 


GIFT  OF  THE  DESERT 


was  to  be  a  private  affair,  didn't  I  ?  Who  is  the  fellow?  " 

The  judge  chuckled,  evidently  amused  at  the  drunken 
outburst. 

"  Got  to  be  a  modest  violet,  Bob  ?  "  he  asked.  "  Say, 
when  I  git  married  the  whole  blame  county  is  goin'  to  see 
it  done.  However,  every  guy  to  his  taste,  an'  besides 
1  ain't  seen  the  woman  yet.  What  was  it  you  asked  me  ?  " 

"Who  was  it  you  brought  along  from  Silver 
Springs?" 

"  Frisco  —  don't  that  beat  hell  ?  " 

"  Frisco !  Why,  by  God,  I  never  supposed  he  dared 
show  up  this  side  the  line."  He  stepped  out  eagerly, 
reeling  a  little  from  the  liquor  he  carried,  yet  head- 
ing straight  toward  the  taller  figure  in  the  dim  light. 
The  latter  swung  down  from  the  saddle  and  met 
him,  Meager,  garrulous  with  drink,  greeting  him  effu- 
sively. 

"  Say,  I'm  glad  to  see  you,  Kid,"  he  burst  forth,  "but 
how  the  hell  do  you  dare  come  here?  There  is  a  lot  o' 
guys  who'd  kill  their  own  mother  fer  the  reward  Ari- 
zona's got  on  you.    Tryin'  to  commit  suicide  ?  " 

"  No,  not  as  desperate  as  that,  Bob,"  answered  the 
other,  his  voice  rather  low  and  musical.  u  I  knew  what 
I  was  doing  all  right,  and  these  fellows  didn't  catch  me 
asleep  out  at  Silver  Springs.  I  knew  who  they  were 
before  I  joined  up  with  them.     Fact  is,  Bob,  I  was 

(42) 


THE  COMING  OF  THE  JUDGE 


headed  this  way  and  willin'  to  have  company  of  the 
right  sort." 

"Headed  this  way?  Huntin'me,  you  mean?  What's 
up?" 

"  Nothing  to  worry  about  tonight.  What  I  came  for 
will  wait.    Safe  for  me  here,  isn't  it?  " 

"Sure,"  and  Meager  burst  into  a  drunken  laugh. 
"  IVe  cleaned  out  the  old  outfit  complete.  There  ain't 
a  damn  Yankee  here  any  more;  all  Mexicans  I  picked 
myself.  Come  on  in,  all  of  you,  an'  let's  have  a  drink. 
Hey  there,  Sanchez,"  and  his  voice  roared  out  the  order 
to  the  bunkhouse.    "  Take  care  of  these  horses." 

One  by  one  the  dark  shadows  of  the  men  disappeared 
within,  Meager  bringing  up  the  rear  and  closing  the 
door  behind  him.  Deborah,  her  heart  beating  wildly, 
sank  down  upon  a  chair,  with  face  buried  in  her  hands. 
They  had  come,  and  there  was  no  hope  in  them.  The 
judge,  the  half-breed,  were  mere  puppets,  dancing  to 
the  voice  of  their  master;  the  very  tone  in  which  he 
greeted  them  spoke  his  contempt  of  the  fellows.  Any 
appeal  for  mercy  to  such  as  they  would  be  but  wasted 
breath.  And  the  third  man !  The  girl  had  somehow, 
at  first  view,  hope  of  him.  His  trim  appearance  in  the 
dim  light,  the  pleasant,  firm  sound  of  his  voice,  her 
knowledge  that  he  was  not  part  of  the  original  con- 
spiracy, had  given  her  a  sudden  thrill  of  expectation. 

(43) 


GIFT  OF  THE  DESERT 


But  this  existed  no  longer  since  she  heard  his  name. 
The  "  Frisco  Kid;"  the  very  sound  of  it  served  to  chill 
her  blood.  Outlaw,  desperado,  spoken  of  in  whispers 
along  the  border;  tales  of  him  had  reached  her  ears 
ever  since  her  first  arrival.  The  troop  of  cavalry  that 
had  made  camp  at  the  ranch  had  been  on  his  trail,  and 
the  officer  in  command  had  repeated  to  her  the  fellow's 
wild  exploits  until  they  mingled  with  her  dreams.  The 
"  Frisco  Kid;"  and  he  was  here  again,  suddenly  appear- 
ing out  of  the  desert,  a  friend  of  Bob  Meager's,  either 
hiding  from  pursuit  or  planning  some  fresh  deviltry. 
There  was  no  hope  for  her  in  his  presence. 

Someone  rapped  gently  on  the  door,  and  she  sprang 
to  her  feet  and  stood  motionless,  staring  through  the 
darkness.    The  rapping  came  again. 


C44) 


CHAPTER  V 

THE  MARRIAGE 

DEBORAH  stepped  forward  silently,  her  lips 
pressed  tight,  opened  the  bureau  drawer,  straight- 
ening up  once  more  with  the  heavy  .44  gripped  in  her 
hand.  The  time  had  come,  and  she  suddenly  felt  calm 
and  cold. 

"Who  is  there?" 

11  It's  just  me,  Miss  Meredith,"  answered  a  woman's 
voice  weakly.  "  I've  got  one  of  my  spells  again.  I  —  I 
need  you  bad.  I  just  thought  I  couldn't  drag  myself 
this  far;  only  I  had  to." 

The  reaction  left  the  startled  girl  trembling,  but  she 
had  no  doubt  as  to  the  urgency  of  the  call.  Thrusting 
the  revolver  hastily  back  into  its  hiding  place,  unwilling 
that  Mrs.  Meager  should  even  see  it,  she  swiftly  un- 
locked the  door  and  stepped  forth  into  the  dimly  lit 
hall.  Her  eyes  caught  one  glimpse  of  her  patient's 
face,  ghastly  white,  but  with  terror  rather  than  pain,  and 
as  quickly  realized  that  she  had  walked  into  a  set  trap. 
Before  she  could  even  spring  backward,  a  burly  form 
crowded  past  her  into  the  opening,  completely  blocking 
it,  while  directly  fronting  her,  grinning  maliciously, 

(45) 


GIFT  OF  THE  DESERT 


stood  Juan  Sanchez.  She  knew,  without  seeing,  who 
was  behind  her — Bob  Meager,  chuckling  in  drunken 
satisfaction.  It  was  the  shrinking,  frightened  woman 
against  the  opposite  wall  who  spoke  first. 

"I  —  I  didn't  want  to  do  it,"  she  screamed  hysteri- 
cally. "He  —  he  made  me;  he  —  he  said  he'd  kill  me 
if  I  didn't.    My  God !  what  do  these  men  want  of  you  ?  " 

"  Shut  up !  "  roared  Meager  angrily.  "  Run  the  old 
fool  back  into  her  room,  Juan,  and  shut  the  door  on  her. 
Go  on;  I'll  take  care  of  the  girl.  Rather  fooled  you 
that  time,  I  reckon,  young  lady." 

She  looked  him  coldly,  contemptuously  in  the  face, 
conscious  of  the  struggle  to  remove  the  older  woman. 

"  Don't  try  to  remain,  Mrs.  Meager,"  she  said 
quietly.  "  Go  back  to  your  room.  I  can  take  care  of 
myself." 

"But — but  dearie,  what  is  it  they  want  to  do  with 
you?" 

Deborah  laughed  bitterly,  so  desperate  by  then  as  to 
be  reckless. 

"  Marry  me  to  this  drunken  brute,"  she  explained, 
"  this  delightful  stepson  of  yours.  Pleasant  prospect, 
isn't  it?  It  may  be  accomplished  with  the  gang  he's 
got ;  but  I'll  make  him  pay.  There  is  nothing  you  can 
do  to  help  me;  so  go  on  back  to  your  room  —  please 
go  I 

(46) 


THE  MARRIAGE 


Sanchez,  grinning  still,  as  though  he  enjoyed  the 
task,  forced  the  helpless  woman  down  the  hall.  She 
yielded  weakly,  apparently  so  overcome  by  events  as 
to  be  devoid  of  strength  for  resistance.  The  man 
shoved  her  roughly  into  the  room,  closed  and  locked 
the  door.  Deborah  heard  her  fall  on  the  floor  within, 
but  her  eyes  were  upon  the  threatening  face  of  Bob 
Meager. 

"Well?"  she  said  sharply,  "you  seem  to  have  won 
the  first  round?" 

"You  bet  I  have.  There  wasn't  no  need  breaking 
in,  while  there  was  an  easier  way.  So  you  ain't  going 
to  make  no  row?" 

"  I  have  not  said  what  I  mean  to  do." 

"An'  I  don't  give  a  damn,"  roughly.  "  Only  I'd  like 
to  know  whether  you're  going  along  by  yourself,  or 
whether  we  got  to  drag  you  ?  It's  one  or  the  other  of 
them  two  things." 

"Along  where?" 

"To  the  living-room,  of  course.  That's  where  I 
aim  to  have  the  ceremony  pulled  off." 

The  girl  thought  quickly.  Resistance  there  and  then 
was  absolutely  useless.  Both  men  were  armed,  and 
one  of  them,  at  least,  was  crazy  drunk.  Neither  would 
hesitate  at  any  rudeness  or  insult ;  a  struggle,  a  defiance^ 
would  mean  both.    They  had  gone  too  far  by  now  ta 

(47) 


GIFT  OF  THE  DESERT 


hesitate  or  fail  to  exercise  their  power.  It  would  be 
better  to  appear  to  yield,  to  seem  reconciled  to  the 
inevitable.  She  was  weaponless,  unable  to  put  up  any 
defense;  perhaps  in  the  larger  room  some  better  oppor- 
tunity for  action  might  present  itself.  If  she  lulled 
their  suspicions,  led  them  to  believe  that  she  was  con- 
quered, she  might  be  able  to  snatch  a  revolver  from 
some  holster,  or  even  evade  them  and  rush  back  to  the 
safety  of  her  own  room.  It  was  a  grim,  ghastly  chance, 
but  she  could  think  of  none  better. 

"I  prefer  going  there  by  myself,"  she  said,  wonder- 
ing at  the  steadiness  of  her  voice,  watchful  of  the  ex- 
pression on  Meager's  leering  face.  "  No  I  don't  touch 
me;  don't  dare  to  touch  me." 

The  fellow  laughed,  but  there  was  a  snarl  in  his  tone. 

"All  right;  so  the  cat  has  still  got  claws,  has  she? 
Well,  I  guess  I  can  wait  putting  hands  on  you ;  it  won't 
be  for  long.    Go  on  ahead  then.   Come  along,  Sanchez." 

In  spite  of  her  trembling  limbs  the  girl  walked  firmly, 
never  so  much  as  turning  her  head  to  glance  at  the  two 
behind  her.  She  must  act  her  part,  play  her  character, 
permit  them  to  think  her  indifferent  to  results,  yet  in  no 
way  afraid.  Without  a  question  she  opened  the  door 
herself  at  the  end  of  the  narrow  hall,  and  stepped  into 
the  room  beyond.  It  was  all  familiar  to  her,  extending 
the  full  width  of  the  home,  low-ceilinged,  the  heavy 

(48) 


THE  MARRIAGE 


beams  supporting  the  upper  floor  blackened  with  smoke. 
A  woven  rug  of  rags  partially  covered  the  floor;  the  fur- 
niture was  heavy,  old-fashioned,  many  pieces  rudely 
made.  The  narrow  windows  contained  small  panes 
of  glass,  the  outer  door  was  closed,  and  a  clock  ticked 
away  on  a  cupboard  in  one  corner.  The  only  light  came 
from  a  hand-lamp  standing  on  a  small  table  pushed 
back  against  the  wall.  She  saw  all  this  with  her  first 
rapid  glance.  There  were  two  men  in  the  room,  the 
short,  thick  Mexican  called  Arvan,  sprawling  on  a 
settee,  and  the  judge,  sunk  into  the  easy  chair,  where 
old  Tom  Meager  had  sat  for  so  many  years,  calmly 
smoking  a  pipe.  At  their  entrance  the  fellow  got  upon 
his  feet  and  bowed,  the  pipe  still  in  his  hands.  Deborah 
looked  anxiously  about  for  the  other  —  the  "  Frisco 
Kid" — but  he  was  not  in  the  room.  Then,  ignoring 
the  hand  Garrity  held  out,  her  eyes  fastened  upon  the 
face  before  her.  She  never  before  had  seen  a  counte- 
nance more  repulsive  or  so  deeply  marked  by  dissipa- 
tion, and  her  heart  seemed  to  choke  her  before  the 
sudden  stare  of  those  pig  eyes  and  the  bestial  grin  of 
the  thick  lips. 

"You — you  are  the  justice  from  Nogales?"  she 
asked  doubtfully. 

"  That's  what  I  am ;  Judge  Cornelius  Garrity,  ma'am, 
at  your  service." 

(49) 


GIFT  OF  THE  DESERT 


"And  you  were  asked  to  come  out  here  to  marry  me 
to  Bob  Meager  ?" 

"  Maybe  so,  if  you  are  the  gurl." 

"  I  am  Deborah  Meredith." 

"Begorry  now,  I  had  forgotten  the  name  entirely. 
But  you  are  the  one,  no  doubt.  A  fine  husband  ye'll  be 
getting.     Bob  and  I  have  been  friends  many  a  year." 

"I  judge  so;  the  natural  tie  between  you  is  quite 
apparent.  I  want  to  appeal  to  you,  Judge  Garrity,  as 
an  officer  of  the  law,  to  refuse  to  perform  this  mar- 
riage  " 

"Refuse!  I  refuse  Bob?  Why,  it's  all  straight 
enough;  I've  got  the  license  here  all  made  out  regular 
with  your  names  on  it." 

"That  is  just  the  point.  That  license  was  procured 
without  my  consent,  or  knowledge.  I  repudiate  it;  I 
refuse  to  assent  to  it  in  any  way.  I  have  never  agreed 
to  marry  Bob  Meager.  I  am  here  now  under  threat, 
and  I  appeal  to  you  for  protection." 

"My  dear  young  woman,"  he  began  hoarsely,  "I 
was  told  before  coming  here  that  you  were  somewhat 
temperamental,  and  might  therefore  desire  not  to  pro- 
ceed with  the  ceremony.  I  shall  not  be  swayed  in  any 
way  by  such  tantrums.  My  own  duty  is  plain;  the 
papers  are  in  correct  form;  Mr.  Meager  assures  me 
that  he  had  your  consent,  and  has  acted  in  accordance 

(50) 


THE  MARRIAGE 


with  your  own  wishes  in  the  matter.  It  is  too  late  at 
this  hour  to  change  your  mind.  I  trust  you  will  see  the 
justice  of  this  and  make  no  further  objections.', 

"Bob  Meager  told  you  that?" 

"  Certainly." 

"He  deliberately  lied  to  you,  then.  I  have  never 
consented,  and  I  never  will.  I  despise  and  abominate 
the  man " 

"  But  my  young  lady,  my  young  lady,  stop  a  moment 
and  listen  to  reason." 

"  Oh,  cut  out  the  hot  air,  Garrity,"  broke  in  Meager, 
surging  forward,  unable  to  control  himself  any  longer. 
"  Let  her  rave  if  she  wants  to ;  it  don't  hurt  none  of  us, 
I  reckon.  You  came  out  here  to  do  up  this  job  for  me, 
and  the  sooner  it's  over  with  the  better.  The  law  of 
Arizona  don't  say  anything  about  whether  the  female 
consents  or  not,  does  it?" 

"Well,  not  directly,  Bob;  that's  implied,  rather." 

"  Implied,  hell !  You  go  on  and  imply  it  then,  pronto. 
I  ain't  organizing  no  debating  society,  you  damn  pot- 
bellied idiot.  I'm  here  to  marry  this  Deborah  Mere- 
dith; that's  what  I'm  paying  you  for;  an'  after  that  I'll 
attend  to  her  tantrums  myself." 

"You  mean  to  force  me  to  marry  you?"  she  asked, 
her  own  temper  rising  to  combat  his. 

"  Sure,"  he  replied  brutally.  "  I  never  supposed 
(51) 


GIFT  OF  THE  DESERT 


you'd  do  anything  else  but  kick.  But  that's  none  of 
Garrity's  business." 

"But  such  a  marriage  will  not  be  legal;  no  court 
would  ever  sustain  it." 

He  laughed  coarsely,  his  eyes  staring  insultingly  into 
her  own. 

"Legal!  Courts!  You  make  me  tired.  This  ain't 
Chicago !  We're  out  here  in  an  Arizona  desert,  and  I 
don't  remember  ever  caring  a  damn  what  the  law  says 
since  I  was  a  kid.  Here's  my  law,  when  it  comes  to 
that,"  and  he  suggestively  slapped  the  gun  holster  on 
his  hip,  "  an'  there  ain't  nobody  tells  me  what  I  shall  do 
or  what  I  shan't.  You  better  get  that  first  of  all.  Legal ! 
Well,  I  reckon  you  heard  what  it  was  the  judge  said, 
didn't  you?  He's  got  the  license  there,  and  the  author- 
ity. Here's  two  witnesses,  according  to  law.  Now  what 
the  hell  you  going  to  do  ?  Suppose  any  court  is  going  to 
take  your  word,  unsupported,  against  the  four  of  us? 
Besides,"  and  he  grinned  suggestively,  with  a  drunken 
leer,  "  after  tonight,  I  don't  reckon  you'll  be  hunting  the 
court  anyway;  you'll  be  damn  glad  you've  got  a  hus- 
band. Come  on  up  closer,  boys,  so  you  can  see  the  whole 
show — Garrity  is  going  to  splice  us  now,  without  no 
more  words  about  it." 

The  judge  cleared  his  throat,  taking  a  printed  slip  of 
paper  from  his  pocket  in  his  stubby  fingers.    However 

(52) 


THE  MARRIAGE 


he  may  have  regretted  this  job,  his  personal  fear  of 
Meager  overcame  all  objections  to  performing  it. 

"  Bob's  quite  right,  miss,"  he  said,  with  an  effort  at 
dignity.  "He's  sure  got  the  law  with  him,  an'  the 
witnesses." 

"But  I  refuse  to  marry  him;  I  do  not  consent,"  she 
insisted,  with  trembling  voice.  "  I  have  never  told  him 
I  would." 

"I  ain't  got  nothing  to  do  with  your  personal  quar- 
rels. They  are  for  you  and  Bob  to  settle.  I  reckon 
every  married  couple  has  them.  You  just  stand  there 
an'  face  me." 

She  was  pressed  back  against  the  table,  helpless  to 
move,  too  thoroughly  bewildered  and  dazed  for  the 
moment  to  attempt  any  action.  Sanchez  had  deserted 
the  door  he  was  guarding,  and  stood  just  behind  her 
grinning  cheerfully.  Arvan  was  opposite,  his  dark, 
half-breed  Indian  face  exhibiting  no  emotion,  while 
Meager  had  planted  himself  at  her  right,  his  bloodshot 
eyes  scowling  into  her  own.  She  saw  no  chance  to  push 
away,  no  hope  of  protest;  she  could  but  struggle  for 
breath,  with  limbs  trembling  beneath  her.  Garrity 
began  to  read,  but  she  only  heard  him  dumbly,  her  mind 
inactive,  comprehending  not  a  single  word.  Once 
Meager  reached  out  and  grasped  her  hand,  but  she 
jerked  it  free,  with  no  other  sense  than  her  hatred  of 

(53) 


GIFT  OF  THE  DESERT 


his  touch.  The  judge's  voice  droned  on,  what  he  said 
having  no  meaning  to  her.  Then,  suddenly,  conscious- 
ness came  back  as  though  something  had  snapped  in  the 
numbed  brain,  the  words  sounding  clear,  distinct:  "I 
pronounce  you  husband  and  wife,  and  whom  God  hath 
joined  together,  let  no  man  put  asunder." 

With  a  single  sharp  cry,  she  sprang  wildly  backward, 
jerked  herself  free  from  Sanchez'  hasty  grip,  and 
dashed  headlong  for  the  door  leading  into  the  hall. 
She  had  no  plan,  no  thought-out  scheme  of  escape,  only 
instinctively  headed  for  the  one  unlocked  passage  lead- 
ing from  the  room.  The  quick,  unexpected  movement 
gave  her  time.  The  startled  Mexican  and  Meager, 
springing  forward  to  intercept  her  flight,  collided, 
cursing  and  striking  at  each  other  in  that  instant  of 
confusion,  while  she  flung  open  the  door  and  swept  out, 
untouched,  into  the  hall.  Her  mind  contained  but  one 
thought  as  she  ran  —  her  own  room,  the  weapon  in  the 
bureau  drawer.  She  could  defend  herself  there;  kill 
herself,  kill  him,  if  necessary !  He  should  never  touch 
her  —  never!  She  was  free  now,  and  would  be  help- 
less in  his  hands  never  again.  She  would  die  first,  die 
gladly,  but  Bob  Meager  would  never  possess  her  alive. 
The  drunken  oaths  behind  spurred  her  on,  strengthened 
her  resolve.  She  ran,  never  glancing  back,  straight  to 
the  entrance  sought,  flung  it  open  and  sprang  within, 

(54) 


THE  MARRIAGE 


slamming  the  door  shut  behind  her  and  feeling  des- 
perately for  the  key.  It  was  not  in  the  lock,  nor  could 
she  find  it  lying  on  the  dark  floor  beneath.  Drunk  as 
Meager  was,  he  had  thought  of  that ;  had  seen  to  it  that 
the  way  to  her  apartment  would  be  left  unguarded. 
The  girl  turned,  her  heart  beating  rapidly,  and  crossed 
to  the  bureau.  Thank  God !  he  had  not  discovered  the 
gun,  and  she  swung  defiantly  about,  the  weapon  gripped 
in  her  hand. 


(55) 


CHAPTER  VI 

THE  BLOW  IN  THE  DARK 

DEBORAH,  the  revolver  held  tightly  in  her  fingers, 
moved  silently  back  into  the  darkest  corner  of 
the  room,  and  crouched  there  listening.  She  had  no 
time  to  think  or  plan,  no  comprehension  of  anything 
other  than  a  desperate  determination  to  defend  herself 
to  the  last  extremity.  If  those  men  entered  that  door 
she  meant  to  shoot,  and  shoot  to  kill.  This  one  deadly 
purpose  was  all  she  was  conscious  of,  or  cared  for. 

Perhaps  in  some  vague  way,  Meager  may  have  real- 
ized her  desperation.  He  knew  nothing  of  her  being 
armed,  yet,  even  in  his  drunkenness,  had  learned  some- 
thing of  her  temper,  and  hesitated  to  face  her  immedi- 
ately. Why  should  he  run  the  risk?  He  already  had 
attained  his  principal  object;  they  were  married,  and  he 
could  wait  until  her  anger  subsided  somewhat  before 
asserting  his  legal  rights.  Meanwhile  the  boys  were 
waiting  for  their  drinks,  and  he  felt  more  inclined  to 
celebrate  the  victory  along  with  them  and  let  tomorrow 
take  care  of  itself. 

Some  faint  conception  of  this  situation  occurred  to 
her,  as  she  crouched  there  in  the  dark  watchfully  wait- 

(56) 


THE  BLOW  IN  THE  DARK 


ing,  yet  remained  undisturbed.  The  tension  relaxed, 
and  she  felt  again  her  womanly  weakness,  her  ques- 
tioning, and  despair.  She  laid  the  revolver  beside  her 
on  the  floor  and  buckled  the  belt  with  its  load  of  cart- 
ridges about  her  waist;  then  picked  the  weapon  up  once 
again  and  rested  it  on  her  knee.  She  was  no  longer 
crazed,  but  able  to  think  clearly  and  decide  what  to 
attempt  next. 

The  starlight  filtering  through  the  window  gave  her 
a  dim  vision  of  the  interior.  No  one  touched  the  door, 
but  she  could  hear  voices  in  the  hall  and  knew  some  of 
the  men  had  followed  that  far.  What  had  halted  them 
she  could  only  guess  at,  for  merely  detached  words 
reached  her  ears,  mingled  with  oaths,  and  finally  ending 
in  loud  laughter.  Then  they  seemed  to  go  away,  for 
all  became  silent,  and  in  the  reaction  the  knowledge 
that  she  had  been  thus  left  alone,  undisturbed,  brought 
to  the  girl  a  strange  sense  of  shame.  Her  cheeks  were 
no  longer  white,  but  hot  and  glowing.  Meager's  action 
could  mean  but  one  thing  —  his  utter  confidence  that 
she  was  already  securely  in  his  power.  She  could  not 
escape,  she  would  be  waiting  there  for  him  when  he 
was  ready  to  possess  her.  Now  he  would  go  back,  drink 
and  carouse  with  his  boon  companions ;  what  difference 
did  an  hour  make ;  she  was  his  wife ;  when  he  was  drunk 
enough,  reckless  enough,  he  would  come  to  claim  her. 

(57) 


GIFT  OF  THE  DESERT 


That  was  what  he  had  boasted,  no  doubt,  and  his  coarse 
joke  had  caused  that  outburst  of  laughter.  The  foul, 
brutal  cur !  Well,  let  him  come ;  she  would  continue  to 
wait,  and  he  should  have  his  welcome.  His  wife !  She 
might  be  his  widow  before  dawn. 

She  did  not  move  for  a  long,  long  time ;  did  not  take 
her  eyes  from  the  closed  door,  or  release  her  grip  on 
the  revolver.  She  felt  cold,  tireless,  actuated  only  by 
a  relentless  hatred.  She  wished  he  would  come  so  that 
it  might  be  over  with.  But  nothing  happened,  and,  little 
by  little,  her  mood  changed.  The  strain  began  to  tell, 
began  to  break  down  her  resolution,  left  her  doubtful 
and  afraid.  She  ventured  to  open  the  door  a  slight 
crack  and  peep  cautiously  out  into  the  hall ;  it  was  de- 
serted, not  even  a  guard  had  been  stationed  there,  but 
the  door  at  the  farther  end,  leading  into  the  living-room, 
had  been  left  open,  and  she  could  hear  the  men  in  there 
making  merry.  It  was  a  babel  of  voices  at  first;  then 
someone  began  to  sing  a  ribald  song  in  English,  and  at 
the  first  line  she  drew  back,  shutting  out  the  hateful 
sound  with  a  feeling  of  supreme  disgust. 

Trembling  from  head  to  foot,  she  crossed  to  the 
window  and  looked  out  into  the  cool  mists  of  the  night. 
No  guard  had  been  posted  here  either.  Evidently  she 
had  been  left  perfectly  free  to  go  or  come  as  she  pleased, 
yet  she  fully  understood  how  limited  that  freedom  was. 

(58) 


THE  BLOW  IN  THE  DARK 


She  might  flee  from  the  house,  but  that  was  all;  the 
borders  of  the  ranch  were  still  her  prison  walls,  the 
efficient  guard  those  sand  deserts  stretching  in  every 
direction,  trackless  and  impassable  on  foot,  vast,  water- 
less leagues,  where  she  would  perish  miserably.  A  light 
still  burned  in  the  bunkhouse,  but  the  building  seemed 
deserted.  Once  two  men  passed  down  the  hill,  leaning 
heavily  upon  each  other,  staggering  and  singing,  disap- 
pearing finally  through  the  open  door.  She  was  still 
staring  after  them,  when  a  sound  from  behind  suddenly 
caused  her  to  face  about.  A  fumbling  hand  was  lifting 
the  iron  latch;  the  door  was  being  pressed  open  with  an 
effort  at  silence.  Motionless,  breathless  with  appre- 
hension, the  girl  watched  the  entering  beam  of  light 
broaden  until  Bob  Meager  stood  swaying  in  the  door- 
way, clutching  at  the  knob  to  steady  himself.  He  did 
not  see  her  at  first,  his  bloodshot  eyes  blindly  searching 
the  apartment;  then  he  must  have  perceived  her  outline 
against  the  window,  for  he  lurched  forward,  giving 
vent  to  an  exclamation  of  relief. 

"  Hell,  so  you  are  here,  waiting  for  me?  Damned  if 
I  didn't  think  maybe  you'd  taken  a  chance  outside.  Too 
blame  sensible,  ain't  you  ?  I  thought  likely  you'd  come 
to  your  senses  if  I  left  you  here  alone  awhile.  Going  to 
be  good  to  me  now,  you  little  cat?  Say !  what  you  got  to 
say  for  yourself,  anyhow?" 

(59) 


GIFT  OF  THE  DESERT 


"  Only  this ;  don't  you  come  another  step  toward  me." 

He  burst  into  a  gruff  laugh,  slapping  his  knee. 

"  The  hell  you  say !  Who  do  you  think  I  am,  any- 
how ?  Some  kid  afraid  of  a  woman  ?  Say,  listen,  that's 
no  way  for  a  wife  to  welcome  her  husband.  I  got  a 
right  in  here,  and  you  bet  I'm  going  to  stay.  Got  an  idea 
you  can  bluff  me,  I  reckon.  Well,  I  ain't  that  kind,  an' 
you  might  as  well  learn  it  now  as  later.  This  is  our 
wedding  night  and  we've  had  a  hell  of  a  time  celebrating 
it.  The  boys  is  all  drunk,  plum  laid  out;  I'm  the  only 
sober  guy  left  in  the  party,  and  so  I  come  here  to  see 
you.  Here's  where  I  ought  to  be,  ain't  it?  Say,  why 
don't  you  say  something?    What  you  going  to  do?" 

"I  am  going  to  kill  you,  Bob  Meager,"  she  said 
coldly,  "  unless  you  leave  this  room." 

11  Kill  me !  Why,  you  blame  little  fool,  I  could  crush 
the  life  out  o'  you  with  one  hand — see,  just  like  that. 
And  by  God,  I  got  the  right  if  you  get  too  gay.  I'm  your 
husband,  ain't  I?  That's  what  the  law  says,  and  I'm 
going  to  be  your  husband,  you  can  bet  your  life  on  that. 
Think  you'll  scare  me,  do  you?"  he  burst  into  an  ugly 
laugh.  "Not  this  time,  you  won't."  He  turned  and 
closed  the  door;  then  crossed  the  room  toward  her, 
reeling  drunkenly,  yet  quite  able  to  retain  his  feet.  [The 
starlight  rendered  his  features  visible.  Her  motionless 
silence  caused  him  to  pause. 

(60) 


THE  BLOW  IN  THE  DARK 


"Pretty  damn  still,  ain't  you?"  he  exclaimed,  peer- 
ing at  her  suspiciously;  "  why  don't  you  talk?  When  I 
speak  to  a  woman  I  want  her  to  say  something." 

"  There  is  nothing  more  for  me  to  say." 

"  Only  that  you're  going  to  kill  me  if  I  touch  you, 
hey?    All  right,  then;  here's  your  chance." 

He  took  two  steps  toward  her,  his  hands  reaching 
out  eagerly,  his  face  thrust  forward.  Then  he  stopped 
suddenly,  with  startled  eyes  staring  into  the  leveled 
muzzle  of  the  .44,  his  lips  giving  suppressed  utterance 
to  a  swift  ejaculation. 

" I'll  be  damned!" 

"  Put  your  hands  up,  Bob  Meager ! "  the  words  were 
icy  cold.  "  Up,  I  say !  Don't  fool  with  me  now.  Turn 
around  and  go  out  that  door.  I  am  not  playing;  this 
means  your  life  or  mine.    Go ! " 

"But  say,  wait — listen  to  me." 

"Not  to  another  word.  This  is  my  game.  You 
thought  you  were  coming  here  to  bully  a  helpless  girl. 
You  were  so  sure  of  your  brute  strength  you  even  took 
off  your  gun  and  left  it  behind.  You  are  not  sneering 
about  my  killing  you  now.  God  knows  why  I  don't, 
you  drunken  cur;  but  there  is  only  one  thing  that  will 
save  you  —  get  out  that  door,  and  stay  out." 

He  cringed  back,  cowardly,  yet  with  drunken  cun- 
ning.   Desperate  as  she  was,  there  was  hesitation  in  the 

(61) 


GIFT  OF  THE  DESERT 


girl's  action.  Dimly  he  grasped  the  truth  that  she 
shrank  from  the  necessity  of  shooting;  that  she  would 
actually  pull  the  trigger  only  as  a  last  resort.  He  took 
the  chance. 

"Sure,"  he  muttered,  "you  got  the  drop  and  I  cave. 
So  long,  honey." 

He  half  turned  away,  reeling  drunkenly,  then  sud- 
denly, unexpectedly,  flung  his  body  directly  at  her, 
crushing  her  back  against  the  wall,  both  falling  together, 
the  weapon  undischarged  beneath  her  body.  Swift,  sur- 
prising as  the  assault  was,  she  had  yet  escaped  the  grip 
of  his  hands,  and  was  on  her  knees  again  before  he 
could  move.  The  revolver  was  her  only  weapon,  but 
in  the  fall  she  had  lost  grip  of  the  stock.  It  lay  there 
glittering  in  the  starlight,  and  desperate,  maddened  by 
the  danger,  obeying  the  first  wild  instinct  of  the  instant, 
she  snatched  it  up  by  the  barrel  and  struck  with  all  her 
force  at  the  man's  head.  The  fellow  gave  utterance  to 
no  moan,  his  limbs  twitched,  and  then  he  lay  motionless, 
his  face  against  the  floor. 

Deborah  slowly  lifted  her  body,  shrinking  back  from 
the  darkly  outlined  form,  beginning  to  comprehend  with 
horror  what  she  had  done.  She  still  held  tight  to  the 
weapon  with  which  she  had  dealt  the  blow,  although 
realizing  that  she  no  longer  required  its  protection; 
The  silence  was  terrifying;  her  nerves  tingled  painfully, 

(62) 


THE  BLOW  IN  THE  DARK 


she  found  difficulty  in  breathing.  Was  the  man  dead? 
Had  she  actually  killed  him  with  that  one  hasty  blow? 
She  could  scarcely  realize  the  possibility,  and  yet  she 
had  struck  with  all  her  force,  driven  to  it  by  terror  un- 
controllable. She  shrank  now  from  even  touching  him ; 
nurse  as  she  was,  having  witnessed  death  in  every  form 
of  horror,  and  ministered  to  wounds  of  every  degree, 
she  would  not  place  hand  on  this  man,  whether  he  lived 
or  died.  Her  repugnance  to  him  had  become  an  obses- 
sion; she  felt  no  desire  to  save  him  if  she  might.  He 
represented  to  her  mind  all  that  was  base  and  evil; 
she  was  glad  she  had  struck  him  down. 

But  what  now?  This  question  overshadowed  all 
else.  The  thing  she  had  been  imagining  for  so  long 
had  at  last  come  to  pass.  He  had  come  to  her,  come 
claiming  her  with  insult  and  outrage,  and  she  had 
actually  dealt  the  blow  of  which  she  had  dreamed. 
Her  courage  had  not  failed  her,  and  he  was  lying  there 
now  in  the  darkness  at  her  feet,  sorely  wounded,  per- 
haps dead.  It  was  her  act,  she  had  done  it — what 
now?  She  had  never  faced  this  situation  before,  the 
aftermath.  She  had  only  planned  out  her  course  of 
action  up  to  this  point,  giving  no  heed  to  what  must 
naturally  follow.  Now  it  fronted  her  in  sudden,  grim, 
gripping  terror.  Whether  Meager  was  dead  or  alive, 
she  must  get  away.     Better  to  face  any  danger  of  the 

(63) 


GIFT  OF  THE  DESERT 


great  desert  than  remain  where  she  was,  with  not  a 
friend  to  counsel  or  protect  her,  not  a  white  man  to 
whom  she  could  appeal.  And,  if  she  did  go,  her  escape 
must  be  accomplished  at  once;  every  instant  of  delay 
only  increased  the  peril.  There  must  be  hours  of  dark- 
ness yet;  those  who  would  stop  her,  who  would  follow 
on  her  trail,  were  in  drunken  stupor,  either  in  the  living- 
room,  or  the  bunkhouse.  At  present,  at  least,  the  way 
must  be  clear. 

The  girl  thrust  the  revolver  back  into  its  holster  at 
her  waist,  and  glanced  out  through  the  window  into 
the  quiet  night.  The  decision  to  act  had  left  its  im- 
press upon  her ;  she  was  no  longer  trembling  with  fear, 
doubtful  as  to  her  best  course.  Of  two  evils,  the  desert, 
or  these  lawless  men,  she  chose  the  less  cruel,  the 
desert.  If  she  was  to  die,  it  would  be,  at  least,  in  honor. 
Once  decided,  her  mind  worked  rapidly.  In  all  prob- 
ability not  a  man  remained  sober  about  the  home  ranch; 
if  any  horses  had  been  left  in  the  stable,  she  therefore 
ought  to  get  several  hours  the  start  of  a  pursuing  party. 
She  believed  Meager  was  dead,  and,  if  so,  his  followers 
would  be  slow  to  discover  what  had  happened,  and 
would  possess  no  leadership.  This,  inevitably  would 
mean  delay.  While,  even  if  the  fellow  should  live, 
hours  surely  must  elapse  before  he  could  take  the  trail. 
With  a  good  horse  under  her,  she  would  be  beyond 

(64) 


THE  BLOW  IN  THE  DARK 


sight  out  on  the  desert,  riding  straight  for  those  two 
peaks  that  old  Tom  Meager  had  pointed  out  to  her  as 
marking  the  Nogales  trail.  With  such  a  start  in  the 
race  there  was  surely  a  chance  to  win.  Her  pulses 
throbbed  exultantly  at  this  sudden  awakening  of  hope, 
and,  without  so  much  as  another  glance  at  the  body 
prostrate  on  the  floor,  she  hurried  to  carry  out  her 
plans. 


(65) 


CHAPTER  VII 

THE  MAN  IN  THE  DARK 

AN  UNRECOGNIZED  Mexican  lay  in  drunken 
.  slumber,  curled  up  like  a  dog,  on  the  floor  of  the 
passage,  but  she  found  no  difficulty  in  passing  the  fel- 
low. She  neither  heard  nor  saw  any  of  the  others,  as 
she  made  her  way  through  the  rear  door,  and  across 
the  few  feet  of  open  space  dividing  the  main  house  from 
the  detached  kitchen.  There  was  a  lamp  burning  in  the 
latter,  and  the  remains  of  fire  in  the  stove,  but  no  oc- 
cupant. Undoubtedly  the  cook  had  indulged  also,  and 
was  now  slumbering  with  the  rest  in  some  dark  corner. 
Deborah  knew  the  place  well,  and  lost  no  time  in  gather- 
ing together  what  food  she  required,  fortunate  enough 
to  discover  a  small  sack  in  which  it  could  be  conveniently 
transported. 

The  effort  had  proven  easy  and  safe  so  far,  and  her 
heart  beat  hopefully,  as  she  emerged  from  the  kitchen, 
thus  equipped.  Now  if  she  could  only  procure  a  horse, 
escape  actually  appeared  possible.  In  the  dim  radiance 
of  the  stars,  she  could  trace  the  dark  outlines  of  the 
stables  down  the  steep  grade,  a  hundred  yards,  or  more, 
beyond  the  bunkhouse.    Doubtless  the  ranch  horses  had 

(60) 


THE  MAN  IN  THE  DARK 


all  been  turned  loose  into  the  large  corral.  She  had  no 
means  of  catching  these  half-broken  animals,  but  it 
might  be  that  the  horses  ridden  by  the  party  arriving 
during  the  evening,  had  been  put  in  the  stable,  ready 
for  immediate  use.  These  were  weary  enough  from 
their  desert  trip  when  they  arrived,  but  that  was  hours 
ago ;  they  must  have  been  fed  and  watered  since,  and, 
with  the  rest,  would  be  fairly  fit  by  this  time  for  an- 
other journey.  They  were  wiry  broncos,  able  to  endure 
any  amount  of  hardship.  It  was  then  she  remembered 
the  horse  the  "  Frisco  Kid"  had  been  riding.  Even  in 
the  darkness  she  had  marked  the  fine,  blooded  lines  of 
the  animal,  the  far  better  condition  in  which  he  ap- 
peared to  be.  The  animal  had  lifted  his  head  when  the 
light  from  the  open  door  streamed  forth,  and  pawed 
impatiently,  with  his  front  hoofs.  If  she  could  only 
lay  hands  on  him. 

"  Frisco  Kid !  "  What  had  ever  become  of  the  fel- 
low? She  wondered  as  she  slowly  made  her  way  down 
the  slope,  keeping,  as  far  from  the  bunkhouse  as 
possible.  She  had  neither  seen  nor  heard  of  him  since 
that  first  meeting  with  Meager.  He  had  simply  dropped 
out  of  sight,  disappeared  completely.  Perhaps  he  was 
among  those  drunken  dogs  in  the  living-room,  sleeping 
off  their  carousal;  yet  somehow  she  did  not  believe  it. 
Someway  his  voice  and  manner  had  strangely  impressed 

(67) 


GIFT  OF  THE  DESERT 


her  as  different ;  he  did  not  belong  with  that  crew.  Out- 
law, desperado,  she  knew  him  to  be,  a  man  with  a  price 
on  his  head,  yet  surely  he  was  no  drunken,  roystering 
brute.  He  had  not  even  gone  into  the  house ;  she  was 
sure  of  that  now,  remembering  clearly.  He  had  led 
the  horses  away,  while  the  other  two  entered  with 
Meager.  Nor  had  he  returned  later ;  not  at  least  while 
she  was  at  the  window,  and  he  was  not  in  attendance 
at  the  wedding. 

Then  the  truth  suddenly  occurred  to  her — the  man 
was  hiding  out.  He  dare  not  risk  drinking,  or  being 
shut  up  in  a  house.  He  was  a  hunted  creature,  watch- 
ful of  treachery  in  every  human  being.  He  could 
trust  no  one,  not  even  his  companions  in  crime;  there 
was  a  reward  for  him,  dead  or  alive.  He  would  be 
out  yonder  in  the  dark  somewhere,  alone,  he  and  his 
horse,  wakening  at  the  slightest  sound.  Perhaps  he 
would  be  the  one  she  needed  to  fear  the  most,  when 
the  pursuit  started.  These  thoughts  flashed  swiftly 
through  her  mind,  almost  unconsciously,  as  she  stole 
forward  silently  through  the  shadows.  She  passed  a 
figure  lying  in  the  trail,  too  drunk  to  even  reach  the 
bunkhouse,  but  as  she  crept  past  the  open  door  of  the 
latter  saw  no  signs  of  any  occupants  within.  .They  were 
there,  no  doubt,  a  good  dozen  of  them,  but  lying  help- 
lessly in  their  bunks  with  no  present  interest  in  what 

(68) 


THE  MAN  IN  THE  DARK 


might  be  happening  about  them.  Except  for  the  few 
line-riders,  and  that  outlaw  hiding  in  some  thicket  of 
chaparral,  the  whole  personnel  of  the  ranch  were  stu- 
pefied with  liquor,  indifferent  to  any  occurrence  going 
on  about  them. 

A  bit  reckless  now,  because  of  this  knowledge,  the 
girl  ventured  through  the  great  open  door  of  the  stable, 
and  began  groping  her  way  forward  searching  the 
stalls.  It  was  intensely  dark  inside,  but  the  place  was 
familiar  enough.  There  were  ten  stalls,  but  seldom 
did  these  contain  anything  other  than  work  horses; 
the  riding  ponies  were  almost  invariably  turned  loose 
in  the  corral.  She  could  only  hope  there  might  be  an 
exception  to  this  general  rule  on  this  particular  night  — 
at  least  that  the  Nogales  animals  might  have  been 
stabled,  rather  than  turned  out  to  run  free.  She  stole 
forward  cautiously,  hearing  no  sound  to  alarm  her, 
the  bag  of  food  grasped  in  one  hand,  the  other  ex- 
tended in  an  endeavor  to  touch  familiar  objects  so  as 
to  guide  her  through  the  gloom. 

The  first  stall  was  empty,  and,  as  she  started  to 
advance  toward  the  second,  she  came  to  a  sudden  pause, 
with  heart  leaping  into  her  throat — there  had  been 
a  sound  at  her  left,  a  rusding  of  straw,  as  though  some- 
thing had  made  a  quick  movement.  She  listened  in- 
tently, drawing  a  breath  of  relief  at  the  succeeding 

(69) 


GIFT  OF  THE  DESERT 


silence.    No  doubt  it  was  a  horse  stirring,  or  possibly 
a  rat.    Then  a  voice  spoke  sternly  not  three  feet  away. 

"Put  up  your  hands!  Who  are  you?  What  are 
you  doing  in  here?" 

She  obeyed  instinctively,  too  frightened  to  even 
speak,  dropping  the  bag  to  the  floor,  forgetting  com- 
pletely the  revolver  buckled  about  her  waist. 

A  hand  reached  forward  out  of  the  darkness,  and 
gripped  her  upraised  arm;  she  was  conscious  of  the 
close  presence  of  a  man,  yet  for  the  instant  retained 
no  power  of  movement. 

"  Why  don't  you  speak?  "  said  the  same  voice,  impa- 
tiently, evidently  angered  at  her  silence.  "What  are 
you  sneaking  about  in  here  for  ?  Well,  I'll  be  damned ! " 
his  tone  changing,  "if  I  don't  believe  it's  a  woman." 

"It  is  a  woman,"  she  managed  to  reply  falteringly. 
"But — but  does  that  make  any  difference?" 

He  laughed,  a  certain  relief  evidenced  in  the  sound, 
although  he  did  not  in  any  way  relax  his  vigilance. 

"  Well,  I  confess  it  might,"  he  admitted,  "  for  you 
are  a  most  unusual  discovery  in  this  section.  I  was 
looking  for  almost  anything  else.  You  belong  with 
this  outfit?" 

"To  the  Meager  ranch,  you  mean?  Yes — that  is, 
I  have  been  employed  here.  You  —  you  are  not  a 
Mexican,  are  you?" 

(70) 


THE  MAN  IN  THE  DARK 


"I  should  say  not.  I  belong  north  of  the  line,  if 
that's  any  relief  to  you.  And  what's  more,  if  you  want 
to  be  square  with  me,  I'll  play  fair  on  my  side.  You 
believe  that?" 

"  I  shall  have  to ;  it  wouldn't  do  me  any  good  to  lie." 

"I  reckon  not;  so  let's  get  it  over  with;  who  are 
you?" 

"  Deborah  Meredith,"  she  explained,  rather  eagerly. 
"I  —  I  am  a  professional  nurse;  my  home  is  in  Chi- 
cago. Tom  Meager  employed  me  to  come  out  here 
and  take  care  of  his  wife."    ~ 

"  Tom  Meager ;  was  that  the  name  of  Bob's  father  ?  " 

"Yes;  he  was  straight.  I  liked  him;  she  was  his 
second  wife,  not  Bob's  mother." 

"Sure,  I  heard  a  little  about  that;  Bob  told  me;  he 
hated  the  woman." 

"Are  you  a  friend  of  Bob  Meager's  ?  " 

The  man  chuckled,  and  she  knew  he  had  put  away 
the  weapon  he  had  held  in  his  hand. 

"  Well,  he's  got  an  idea  that  I  am.  We've  run  about 
together  a  bit,  I  admit;  which  confession  maybe  is  no 
recommendation  to  you." 

"  No,  it  is  not." 

"  I  thought  likely  it  wouldn't  be.  So  you  and  Bob 
are  not  good  friends?" 

"I  despise  and  hate  the  man;  he  is  a  drunken  brute." 
(71) 


GIFT  OF  THE  DESERT 


"Granted  freely;  but  if  you  feel  that  way,  why  did 
you  remain  here  on  the  ranch?  " 

"Because  I  have  had  no  chance  to  get  away  since 
his  father  died.  I  could  not  desert  my  patient,  and 
besides,  had  no  reason  to  suppose  Bob  would  come 
back  and  take  possession.  He  was  a  fugitive  from 
justice;  his  father  had  lost  all  faith  in  him,  and — and 
I  had  reason  to  believe  he  had  been  shut  out  from  all 
right  to  this  property." 

"You  had  reason  to  believe?  What  reason?  I  am 
not  asking  merely  from  curiosity;  I  want  to  understand 
the  entire  situation.  Believe  me,  I  would  rather  be- 
friend you  than  him." 

"Why  do  you  say  that?  just  to  draw  me  on?" 

"  No ;  I  am  really  interested.  I  already  have  an  idea 
what  this  means ;  you  are  endeavoring  to  escape  alone?  " 

"It  seemed  my  only  chance,"  she  confessed,  heart- 
ened by  the  man's  words,  and  manner,  and  eagerly 
wishing  she  might  see  his  face.  "But  I  am  talking 
with  a  stranger;  perhaps  I  trust  you  too  much." 

"Is  there  anything  else  you  can  do?"  he  insisted. 
"  I  have  it  in  my  power  to  aid  you,  or  prevent  your 
escape.    You  must  choose  which  it  shall  be." 

She  drew  in  her  breath  sharply,  the  full  truth  of 
what  he  said  clear  to  her  mind. 

"  What  you  say  is  true,"  she  admitted  frankly.    "  I 

(72) 


THE  MAN  IN  THE  DARK 


must  trust  you  blindly;  I  have  no  other  choice.  You 
are  not  employed  here?" 

"No,  I  just  blew  in  last  night." 

"  What  is  your  name  ?  " 

"  Daniel  Kelleen." 

"You  are  not  a  cow-puncher  surely?  You  —  you 
have  education." 

He  laughed  good-humoredly. 

"Nevertheless,  I  am  quite  accustomed  to  cow- 
punching.  Perhaps  IVe  had  a  trifle  more  schooling 
than  some  of  the  boys.  Still,  if  you  accept  me  at  all, 
it  will  have  to  be  just  as  I  am.  Now  let  me  have  the 
straight  of  all  this  affair,  and  then  we'll  get  busy.  Tell 
it  to  me  from  the  first." 

Deborah  stared  at  the  man's  dim  outline  through 
the  darkness.  If  she  could  only  see  the  expression  of 
his  face.  And  yet,  as  she  had  already  acknowledged, 
there  was  no  choice  left  her — she  must  trust  him 
blindly,  absolutely;  he  could  defend,  or  betray  her  at 
his  own  will.  So  clear  was  this  situation  she  scarcely 
hesitated. 

"Yes,  I  will  tell  you,  Daniel  Kelleen,"  she  said 
gravely.  "  I  must  trust  someone,  and  you  seem  to  be 
the  one  sent.  All  I  know  of  you  is,  that  you  are  an 
American.  I  am  an  American  also,  and  a  woman.  If 
that  does  not  appeal  to  you,  then  nothing  else  will.    I 

(73) 


GIFT  OF  THE  DESERT 


have  told  you  already  who  I  am,  and  how  I  came  here. 
The  remainder  of  the  story  is  brief.  I  have  had  noth- 
ing to  do  with  Bob  Meager  since  he  returned,  imme- 
diately after  his  father's  sudden  death.  There  was 
no  opportunity  for  me  to  leave  the  ranch,  so  I  remained 
in  care  of  Mrs.  Meager.  Until  last  evening  I  never 
even  encountered  Bob  but  once.  Then  he  came  unex- 
pectedly into  his  stepmother's  room,  and  we  met  briefly. 
I  thought  nothing  of  this  meeting  at  the  time,  except 
that  his  actions  and  words  intensified  my  dislike  of  the 
man.  He  was  brutal  and  insulting  to  us  both.  After 
that  I  kept  out  of  his  way,  and  he  apparently  ignored 
my  presence  entirely.  I  did  notice,  however,  that  he 
was  getting  rid  of  all  the  old  employees  on  the  ranch, 
and  replacing  them  with  Mexicans.  Evidently  he 
wanted  no  Americans  about  him." 

14 1  understand;  not  his  kind." 

"So  I  thought,  but  with  no  conception  that  this 
change  had  any  reference  to  me." 

"It  did  have,  then?" 

44  So  it  seems  now.  He  came  upon  me  suddenly  alone 
last  evening.  I  was  at  the  edge  of  the  plateau,  close 
to  the  Nogales  trail,  watching  the  sunset  over  the 
desert,  and  saw  nothing  of  him  until  he  stood  beside 
me.  There  was  no  chance  for  me  to  get  away,  and 
I  had  to  listen  to  what  he  said."    She  dropped  her  face 

(74) 


THE  MAN  IN  THE  DARK 


into  her  hands,  but  instantly  lifted  it  again,  and  went 
on,  her  voice  strengthening  with  indignation.  Kelleen 
made  no  movement. 

"He  —  he  was  not  even  decent  about  what  he  had 
to  say.  I  was  merely  a  chattel  he  had  to  deal  with,  a 
slave  to  use  as  he  pleased.  It  doesn't  sound  true,  but 
it  is  true,  every  word." 

"  Go  on,"  said  the  other  dispassionately.  "  I  know 
Bob  Meager." 

"He  said  he  was  going  to  marry  me;  he  didn't  ask 
me  about  it  at  all;  just  stated  it  as  a  fact.  Said  he'd 
made  up  his  mind  the  first  time  he  saw  me,  and  had 
been  getting  things  ready  ever  since.  When  I  tried  to 
object,  the  brute  just  laughed,  and  asked  how  I  was 
going  to  help  myself.  He  made  me  realize  the  situa- 
tion I  was  in,  without  an  American  left  on  the  ranch, 
and  those  miles  of  desert  stretching  away  on  every 
side.  He — he  frightened  me  terribly,  and  he  gave 
me  no  time  to  think,  or  plan  an  escape.  To  appeal  to 
him  was  utterly  useless." 

"  I  should  say  it  would  be." 

11  Then  he  told  me  everything  was  arranged  for  this 
very  night.  A — a  man  was  coming  out  from  Nogales 
to  marry  us.  He  said  I  better  go  into  the  house,  and 
get  ready.  Then  he  laughed  again,  and  went  away. 
He — -he  wasn't  afraid  to  leave  me  there  alone,  for 

(75) 


GIFT  OF  THE  DESERT 


there  was  no  place  where  I  could  hide,  no  chance  to 
leave  the  ranch.  I  —  I  was  hardly  sane,  but — but 
after  awhile  I  went  back  to  the  house;  what  else  was 
there  I  could  do?" 

11  Nothing,  I  reckon,  unless  you  killed  the  cuss.  What 
did  you  do  ?  " 

"I  —  I  made  up  my  mind  to  do  even  that,"  she  con- 
fessed. "  I  stole  a  revolver  from  the  bunkhouse  while 
the  men  were  at  mess,  and  then  locked  myself  in  my 
own  room  to  wait.  I  thought  perhaps  he  was  lying; 
but  he  wasn't.  Along  about  nine  o'clock  the  outfit  rode 
in  from  Nogales.  There  was  nothing  for  me  to  do  but 
wait  desperately.  I  meant  to  stay  there,  and  defend 
myself,  behind  that  locked  door.  But  that  devil  tricked 
me.  He  got  Mrs.  Meager  to  call  to  me  from  the 
hall,  saying  she  had  one  of  her  bad  turns,  and  I  opened 
the  door  to  help  her.  I  —  I  hardly  know  what  hap- 
pened after  that.  I  tried  to  explain  to  the  man  who 
came  to  marry  us,  but  he  wouldn't  listen.  He  was  just 
a  creature  Bob  Meager  had  picked  up  to  serve  him." 

"Sure!  I  know  him  —  Garrity;  he'd  murder  his 
mother  for  a  drink  of  booze." 

11  But  is  he  really  a  judge  ?  " 

11  He's  a  justice  of  the  peace  down  at  Nogales." 

"Then  I  was  really  married?    It  —  it  was  legal?" 

"  Darn  if  I  know  about  that.    I  think  likely  the  whole 

(76) 


THE  MAN  IN  THE  DARK 


outfit  would  swear  you  consented.  Who  were  in  the 
gang?" 

"  Juan  Sanchez,  a  ranch  foreman,  and  a  black-faced 
fellow  who  came  out  from  Nogales." 

"Arvan;  they'd  swear  anything  Bob  told  them  to. 
They'd  make  it  out  you  were  married  all  right" 

"  But — but  I'm  not;  not  now! " 

"Not  now?    What  do  you  mean?" 

"I've  — I've  killed  him !" 


(77) 


CHAPTER  VIII 

A  NEW  ALLIANCE 

FOR  a  moment  Kelleen  did  not  move;  then  impul- 
sively he  groped  for  her  hand  in  the  darkness. 

"You  killed  him?  You  did?  Say,  I  like  you,"  he 
exclaimed  earnestly.  "You  are  sure  some  girl,  you 
are.    But  are  you  certain  you  killed  him? " 

"I  —  I  think  so — yes,"  she  stammered,  totally  sur- 
prised by  the  way  in  which  he  greeted  her  news.  "  But 
I  —  I  am  not  exactly  sure." 

"You  are  a  nurse,  you  said?" 

"Yes,  but  —  but  someway  I  couldn't  touch  the  man. 
He  was  so  repulsive  to  me  —  I  couldn't.  All  I  know 
is  he  is  lying  there  on  the  floor  of  my  room,  and — and 
he  never  moved  after  he  was  struck." 

"  Struck  ?    You  did  not  shoot,  then  ?  " 

"  No ;  I  had  no  chance.  I  got  away  from  them,  and 
ran  to  my  own  room,  where  I  meant  to  lock  myself  in, 
but  someone  had  taken  the  key.  I  shut  the  door  behind 
me  and  got  the  revolver  out  of  a  drawer,  determined 
to  defend  myself.  The  men  followed,  but  stopped 
outside  in  the  hall.  I  could  hear  them  laugh  and  talk; 
then  they  went  back  to  the  front  room  again.     Bob 


A  NEW  ALLIANCE 


was  so  sure  I  couldn't  get  away,  he  wasn't  afraid  to 
leave  me  there.  He  planned  to  get  drunk  first,  and 
then  come  back." 

"Sure;  that  would  be  his  style;  and  you  waited? 
You  didn't  try  to  get  away  ?  " 

"  Get  away !  Where  could  I  go  ?  Only  out  into  the 
desert,  and  those  men  would  have  trailed  me  if  I  tried 
that.  Yes,  I  waited  in  the  dark,  desperate,  determined 
to  kill  him  when  he  came.  And  he  came  finally,  so 
drunk  he  could  hardly  stand,  but  ugly  with  the  liquor. 
He  had  outdrank  all  the  others  and  boasted  of  it,  and — 
and  then  he  came  reeling  to  me.  I  —  I  do  not  seem  to 
remember  exactly  what  did  happen;  he  laughed  and 
jeered  at  me,  and  got  hold  of  the  weapon  before  I  had 
courage  to  fire.  Then  we  struggled,  and  the  grip  of 
his  hands  drove  me  mad.  The  revolver  fell  to  the 
floor,  but  I  got  it,  and  struck  at  him  with  all  my  might. 
That  was  all;  he  just  lay  there,  and  never  moved;  I 
could  see  his  face  in  the  starlight,  but  —  but  I  couldn't 
make  myself  touch  him.  I  —  I  believed  he  was  dead, 
that  I  had  killed  him." 

"  Never  mind,  little  girl,"  interrupted  Kelleen  firmly, 
"maybe  he  was,  but  I  doubt  it;  guys  like  that  are  not 
croaked  so  easy.    Then,  I  take  it,  you  ran  away." 

"Yes;  I  —  I  couldn't  stay  there,  and  I  thought  per- 
haps, there  might  be  a  chance,  if  I  could  only  find  a 

(7<n 


GIFT  OF  THE  DESERT 


horse  somewhere.  I  knew  the  others  were  all  drunk, 
and  I  would  not  be  missed  before  morning.  I  had  to 
try,  and  that  was  how  I  came  to  be  here.  You  —  you 
understand  now?" 

"Yes,  I  understand,  and  I  am  going  to  stay  with 
you.  But  first,  let's  get  this  straight.  I  am  not  brag- 
ging about  myself,  and,  I  reckon,  ordinarily,  you 
wouldn't  be  pickin'  me  out  for  a  companion,  but  right 
now,  it's  any  port  in  a  storm.  One  thing's  sure,  I  don't 
belong  to  Bob  Meager's  outfit,  and  I  like  you.  The 
main  question  is,  are  you  ready  to  trust  me  as  a  white 
man?" 

"Yes  — lam." 

"That  means  a  lot  more  than  you  think  right  now," 
he  went  on,  but  evidently  encouraged  by  her  tone.  "  Be- 
cause it  ain't  going  to  be  so  easy  getting  away.  I  know 
this  country  off  the  main  trails.  I  don't  take  any  stock 
in  Bob's  being  dead;  he's  got  a  knockout,  that's  all, 
and  when  he  comes  to  himself  again,  he's  going  to  be 
raving.  He'll  have  every  rider  on  this  ranch  on  our 
trail,  and  the  best  we  can  reckon  on  is  maybe  three 
hours  start.  You  got  to  stay  with  me,  and  do  just  what 
I  say — and,  girl,  that  sure  means  you  must  trust  me 
plumb  to  the  limit.  Do  you  sabe  that?  This  ain't  going 
to  be  no  canter  between  here  and  Nogales;  the  only 
chance  we've  got  is  to  hide  out,  first  in  the  desert,  and 

(80) 


A  NEW  ALLIANCE 


then  in  the  hills.  I'm  telling  it  to  you  rough;  but  you 
better  know  it  now  than  later." 

11  You  mean  we  shall  have  to  be  alone  together  for — 
for  some  time?" 

"That's  the  stuff.  We  ain't  going  to  have  an  easy 
gallop  into  town.  You  don't  know  me  from  Adam, 
and  if  you  did,  I  reckon  you  wouldn't  go  a  mile  with 
me.  I  ain't  very  highly  thought  of  along  this  border, 
I'll  say  that;  there  ain't  many  would  choose  me  fer  a 
partner,  that's  a  fact.  More,  I  ain't  got  nothing  to  say 
to  you  except  that  I'm  going  to  play  square.  If  you 
trust  me  I'll  bring  you  through  safe  enough  in  one  way 
or  another;  but  if  you  don't  feel  that  you  can  go  the 
limit,  then  the  best  thing  for  you  to  do,  maybe,  is  to 
stay  here,  and  scrap  it  out  with  Bob  Meager.  My 
notion  is  this  running  away  with  his  wife  ain't  going  to 
be  no  snap  even  for  me,  and  darned  if  I'm  going  to 
tackle  the  job  except  you're  of  a  mind  to  go  clear 
through  with  me." 

"You  think  I  am  his  wife,  then?  that  he  is  really 
alive?" 

"  I  havn't  a  doubt  of  it.  At  least  I  am  going  to  pro- 
ceed on  that  theory.  Meager  is  the  one  we  have  got 
to  escape  from ;  if  he  recovers  by  daylight  from  that  rap 
you  gave  him,  he  is  going  to  lead  us  a  merry  chase. 
Every  minute  of  a  start  we  get,  the  better.    But  I  want 

(81) 


GIFT  OF  THE  DESERT 


you  to  get  it  straight — will  you  go  with  me?" 

There  was  an  eager  earnestness  in  his  voice  of  which 
she  was  fully  conscious,  yet  someway  this  did  not 
frighten  her.  The  one  vision  of  Bob  Meager,  drunk 
and  grasping  her  in  his  arms,  dominated  all  else,  and 
left  her  careless  of  any  lesser  danger.  There  was  no 
hope  in  remaining  where  she  was,  alone,  in  the  power 
of  this  outfit;  any  effort  at  escape,  no  matter  how  des- 
perate, was  infinitely  better  than  a  weak  surrender  to 
such  a  fate.  Kelleen  was  white,  an  American,  a  border 
desperado,  no  doubt,  yet  he  talked  square,  and  had 
given  her  pledge  of  protection.  He  offered  her  the 
only  available  chance;  she  must  trust  the  man  blindly, 
or  else  resign  herself  to  fate.  No  other  choice  re- 
mained. Impulsively  she  thrust  out  her  hand  in  silent 
promise. 

"You  mean  yes  ?" 

"  I  mean  yes.  I  trust  you  fully,  absolutely.  I  will 
do  exactly  as  you  say." 

"It  is  bound  to  be  some  test,  young  lady,"  he 
returned  gravely,  releasing  her  hand,  and  rising  to  his 
feet,  "  but  I  reckon  I  won't  let  you  regret  it.  Nobody 
ever  trusted  Dan  Kelleen  yet  and  found  him  a  piker. 
We're  pardners  now;  let's  go." 

He  picked  up  a  saddle  from  the  bed  of  hay  on  which 
he  had  been  resting;  found  another  hanging  on  a  stake 

(82) 


A  NEW  ALLIANCE 


driven  into  a  beam,  and  with  both  flung  carelessly  over 
his  shoulder,  emerged  through  the  open  door  into  the 
starlight.  Deborah  followed  closely,  a  new  feeling  of 
relief  giving  lightness  to  her  step.  She  was  no  longer 
alone,  unguided;  something  about  the  words  and  actions 
of  the  man  brought  confidence.  She  had  not  even  seen 
his  face,  yet  his  very  presence  inspired  courage;  she 
had  found  a  friend,  a  companion.  His  movements 
added  to  her  faith.  The  situation  was  plainly  no  nov- 
elty to  him;  he  had  been  a  fugitive  before  and  had 
learned  every  trick  in  the  hard  school  of  experience. 
A  moment  he  paused  motionless  in  the  shadow  of  the 
stable,  studying  the  dimly  revealed  scene.  There  was 
no  movement  visible  anywhere,  although  a  light  burned 
in  the  bunkhouse,  and  the  faint  glimmer  of  another 
appeared  through  the  window  of  the  more  distant 
ranchhouse.  These  meant  nothing  but  as  reminders 
of  the  night's  orgy,  convincing,  indeed,  that  the  revel- 
ers were  still  soundly  asleep  as  a  result  of  their  debauch. 
Whatever  had  happened  to  Bob  Meager,  it  was  clearly 
evident  the  fellow  had  not  yet  recovered  conscious- 
ness, and  it  was  hardly  likely  his  fellows  would  become 
aroused  until  he  sounded  the  alarm.  The  way  of 
escape  still  remained  open,  but  no  one  could  tell  for 
how  long.  Success  might  hang  upon  moments.  Kel- 
leen's  keen  eyes  searched  the  deep  shadows  anxiously, 

(S3) 


GIFT  OF  THE  DESERT 


but  his  lips  smiled  in  satisfaction. 

"It's  all  right,"  he  whispered  confidently.  "The 
gang  is  still  doped,  I  reckon.  You  don't  see  anyone 
moving,  do  you  ?  " 

"No." 

"  Then  follow  me."  He  stopped  suddenly.  "  You 
ride,  don't  you?" 

"Yes."   ' 

"Good!  It  struck  me  maybe  you  didn't,  being  a 
nurse  from  the  East.    Learn  how  out  here? " 

"Not  entirely;  I  have  always  ridden,  but  old  Tom 
Meager  taught  me  a  lot." 

"Well,  it's  going  to  come  handy  now.  My  horse 
is  all  right,  but  I'll  have  to  rope  one  for  you,  and  I 
might  pick  a  wild  devil  in  the  dark.  Could  you 
stay?" 

"As  long  as  he  keeps  his  feet." 

"  Damn,  but  I  like  your  style ! "  he  said  enthusiasti- 
cally, letting  his  hand  rest  an  instant  on  her  shoulder. 
"  You  and  I  are  going  to  hit  it  off  fine.  Come  on,  now; 
keep  back  in  the  shadow." 

She  waited  at  the  bars  of  the  corral  while  Kelleen 
vanished  in  the  darkness  of  the  open,  lightly  swinging 
a  coiled  lariat  in  his  hand.  It  was  a  wonderful  night, 
the  stars  like  lamps  in  the  sky,  the  silence  profound. 
The  air  blew  cold  against  her  cheek,  but  not  so  much 

(84) 


A  NEW  ALLIANCE 


as  the  rustle  of  a  leaf  broke  the  stillness.  Both  houses 
were  from  there  hidden  from  view,  and,  now  that  her 
newly  found  companion  had  disappeared,  Deborah  felt 
entirely  alone.  Had  she  done  right  to  repose  trust  in 
him?  Who  was  the  man?  In  his  presence,  hearing 
his  voice,  mysteriously  influenced  by  his  careless  per- 
sonality, she  felt  strangely  drawn  toward  him,  but  now, 
that  he  had  vanished,  doubts  came  surging  back.  Why 
was  he  at  the  ranch  if  he  had  no  connection  with  Bob 
Meager?  What  would  his  presence  there  imply?  The 
ranch  was  on  no  commonly  used  trail;  visitors  never 
came  without  a  purpose.  To  reach  there  at  all  required 
miles  of  desert  travel,  with  no  little  hardship.  There 
must  always  be  an  object  in  such  a  journey.  What  could 
it  be  in  this  case?  Was  the  fellow  a  mere  drifter,  seek- 
ing a  job?  A  fugitive  from  justice,  hiding  from  the 
law?  or  actually  in  Meager's  service?  Surely  he  must 
be  one  of  the  three;  nothing  else  would  account  for  his 
presence  under  such  circumstances  —  his  hiding  out  in 
the  stable,  his  secrecy,  even  the  disparaging  remarks 
he  had  made  about  himself. 

Yet  she  liked,  and  trusted  him;  felt  no  fear  of  the 
man.  So  far  as  his  relations  with  her  were  concerned 
not  a  doubt  of  his  absolute  squareness  assailed  her. 
She  believed  his  promise.  Outlaw,  fugitive,  border 
desperado,  he  had  won  her  faith  already.    The  reac- 

(85) 


GIFT  OF  THE  DESERT 


tion  she  experienced  from  being  helplessly  alone  caused 
her  now  to  rest  all  hope  on  this  stranger  who  had  so 
mysteriously  come  to  her  rescue;  she  cared  not  who 
he  might  be,  or  from  whence  he  came.  Enough  that 
he  was  there,  strong-armed,  capable,  fearless,  willing 
to  befriend  her,  to  guide  her  safely.  This  very  relief 
felt,  left  her  helpless  to  question  his  motive;  she  was 
ready  enough  to  follow  him,  to  do  whatever  he  desired. 
It  was  this  spirit  of  almost  blind  confidence  that  the  girl 
welcomed  his  return  when  he  finally  emerged  from  out 
the  black  shadows,  leading  two  horses  trailing  quietly 
behind,  through  the  corral  gate.  She  could  not  even 
wholly  refrain  from  showing  her  eagerness. 

"  Let  me  aid  now,"  she  insisted.  "  I  am  not  quite 
helpless;  indeed  I  am  not." 

He  laughed  softly,  his  eyes  searching  the  shadows, 
rather  than  seeking  her. 

"  No,  no ;  the  quickest  way  will  be  for  you  to  stand 
quietly,  and  hold  the  brutes;  this  animal  seems  a  bit 
ugly.    I'll  try  him  out  myself." 

He  saddled  and  bridled  the  two  rapidly,  evidently 
accustomed  to  working  in  the  dark. 

"Are  you  ready?" 

"Yes." 

"  Put  your  foot  in  my  hand.  This  is  my  horse ;  he'll 
carry  you  fine.     Now,  up  you  go.     This  your  water 

(86) 


A  NEW  ALLIANCE 


bottle?  I'll  strap  it  to  the  pommel  where  it  will  be 
handy." 

He  swung  into  the  saddle  himself,  restraining  the 
half-broken  animal  with  an  iron  hand. 

"You  know  the  way  down  the  mesa?"  he  asked, 
"the  Nogales  trail?" 

"Of  course." 

"Then  ride  ahead,  and  I'll  follow.  I  may  have 
trouble  with  this  brute  before  he  learns  who  is  master. 
Just  go  straight  on  out  into  the  desert.  I'll  not  be  far 
away." 

She  rode  forward,  never  questioning  his  right  to 
command.  It  seemed  the  most  natural  thing  in  the 
world  to  obey.  The  horse  under  her  moved  steadily 
at  a  swift  walk,  alert  but  well  trained,  obedient  to  the 
slightest  pressure  of  her  fingers  on  the  rein.  The 
muffled  sounds  of  a  struggle  reached  her  ears,  and  she 
turned  in  the  saddle  to  look  back,  but  darkness  hid 
everything.  The  man  would  conquer,  and  keep  his 
word,  and  she  guided  her  mount  into  the  narrow  trail, 
scarcely  discernible  beneath  the  tree  shadows.  Her 
courage  was  high ;  she  was  no  longer  alone ;  the  dread 
of  the  desert  had  left  her. 


(87) 


CHAPTER  IX 

THE  ROAD  TO  SILVER  SPRINGS 

DEBORAH  found  passage  down  the  steep  hillside 
and  had  advanced  some  distance  across  the  level, 
before  Kelleen  joined  her.  No  words  were  exchanged 
between  them  as  he  reined  in  his  horse  beside  her  own. 
Evidently  the  man  was  satisfied  with  her  knowledge  of 
the  trail  as  well  as  the  progress  made.  He  turned  in  the 
saddle,  gazing  searchingly  back  at  the  dim  outline  of  the 
mesa,  now  barely  visible  through  the  gloom.  His  horse, 
completely  conquered,  had  lost  all  restlessness,  keeping 
even  pace  with  the  one  ridden  by  the  girl.  She  glanced 
aside  uneasily. 

"There  is  something  wrong?"  she  asked,  troubled 
by  his  silence. 

"  No,  nothing  stirring.  I  circled  the  bunkhouse  be- 
fore leaving;  the  whole  outfit  is  still  asleep.  I  was 
just  getting  directions  fixed  in  my  mind.  We  are  going 
a  route  I  haven't  traveled  lately." 

11  But  the  Nogales  trail  is  not  difficult  to  follow." 

"  That  is  exactly  what  is  wrong  with  it,"  he  explained, 
his  face  now  turned  forward.  "  It  is  so  easily  followed, 
we  could  never  get  far  enough  ahead  of  pursuit  to  be 

(88) 


THE  ROAD  TO  SILVER  SPRINGS 

safe.  They  will  jump  to  the  conclusion  that  you  have 
gone  this  way,  of  course.  I  am  hoping  they  will  believe 
you  have  gone  alone." 

11  Do  they  know  you  were  at  the  ranch?  " 
"Yes,  unfortunately;  but  my  disappearance  during 
the  night  will  not  necessarily  make  them  conclude  we 
have  disappeared  together.,,  He  laughed.  "  I  haven't 
a  reputation  for  remaining  very  long  in  any  one  place, 
so  my  going  will  create  no  particular  suspicion.  Then 
I've  covered  things  the  best  I  could.  I  came  out  through 
a  ravine  to  the  north,  and  circled  back  to  this  trail, 
and  from  here  on  not  much  trace  will  be  left — the 
way  that  wind  is  blowing  it  would  take  an  Apache  to 
follow  us  after  two  hours.  That  is  what  I'm  counting 
on  now — to  leave  those  fellows  guessing.  They'll 
be  sure  you've  gone  this  way — because  it's  the  only 
trail  you  knew  anything  about — but  they  won't  have 
the  ghost  of  an  idea  what  has  become  of  me.  That  is 
exactly  what  I'm  aiming  to  do — get  the  bunch  riding 
this  trail,  thinking  you're  going  it  blind,  and  that  all 
they've  got  to  do  in  order  to  catch  you  is  to  ride  hard 
enough.  Then  they  won't  stop  to  read  '  Sign '  —  see  ?  " 
He  chuckled  at  the  picture,  and  rested  one  hand  lightly 
on  her  saddle  pommel.  "  I've  done  a  bit  of  hiding  out 
before,  and  reckon  I  know  the  game." 

"  But — but  I  do  not,"  she  ventured  doubtfully.    "  It 
(89) 


GIFT  OF  THE  DESERT 


seems  to  me  we  are  doing  exactly  what  they  expect  us 
to  do." 

"Sure;  I'm  counting  on  two  hours  and  a  half,  or 
maybe  three  hours  of  darkness  yet.  An  hour  will  bring 
us  to  Silver  Springs.  That  doesn't  mean  a  thing  to 
you,  does  it?" 

11  No,  only  I  think  I  remember  the  place." 

"And  it  won't  to  those  guys,  either,  unless  Bob 
Meager  is  able  to  be  along  with  them.  The  gang  he 
has  is  new  to  these  parts;  most  of  them  come  from 
over  the  border.  Well,  Silver  Springs  is  where  we 
take  a  side  trip,  the  sort  not  many  know  about.  Two 
hours'  ride  from  there  the  whole  United  States  couldn't 
find  where  you  was  hid  away." 

"How  did  you  know?"  she  questioned  suspiciously. 

"  Oh,  it's  part  of  my  trade  to  learn  the  country  I'm 
working  in." 

"Your  trade?" 

"  Sure ;  you  never  supposed  I  was  here  for  my  health, 
did  you?  I've  got  a  trade  all  right,  and  perhaps  I'll 
tell  you  about  it  sometime.  It's  enough  now  for  me  to 
say  that  it  has  taught  me  as  much  about  this  desert  as 
any  Indian  ever  knew.  I've  rode  it  alone,  east,  west, 
north,  and  south,  and  one  of  the  strange  places  I  stum- 
bled into — by  good  luck,  not  more  than  two  days 
ago — was  this  Devil's  Gulch  I'm  heading  for  now. 

(90) 


THE  ROAD  TO  SILVER  SPRINGS 

If  we  get  there  by  daylight  we'll  have  this  game 
blocked." 

"You  believe  no  one  else  knows  the  place?" 

"Sure,  someone  does,  but  not  this  outfit.  I  doubt 
if  old  Tom  Meager  ever  knew  of  it,  but  I  have  some 
reason  to  believe  Bob  may.  It  has  been  used  before 
by  white  men,  and  cattle  have  been  herded  there.  I 
saw  enough  to  find  that  out,  but  none  of  the  'Sign' 
was  recent.  It  has  been  a  thieves'  den  in  its  day,  no 
doubt,  if  the  story  was  known." 

"A  thieves' den?" 

"Likely  —  yes.  You  do  not  know  this  country  ver/ 
well,  Miss  Deborah,  but  it  has  been  the  headquarters 
for  cattle  rustlers  and  smugglers  for  years,  centuries 
for  all  I  know.  In  some  respects  it  is  as  bad  today  as 
it  ever  was.  Mexico  is  just  over  yonder,"  and  he  made 
an  expressive  gesture  with  one  hand,  "  and  this  desert 
stretches  along  both  sides  the  line ;  on  every  side  moun- 
tains and  wild  country.  There's  nothing  here  to 
civilize,  and  the  only  law  is  represented  by  a  few 
scattered  soldier  patrols.  The  Meager  ranch  is  the 
only  oasis  in  a  hundred  miles.  I  don't  know  how  the 
place  was  ever  found,  but  I'll  bet  it  was  held  by  the 
rifle." 

"  It  was,"  she  said  eagerly.  "  Old  Tom  told  me  the 
story.    He  came  in  here  a  young  man,  prospecting,  and 

(91) 


GIFT  OF  THE  DESERT 


discovered  these  hundreds  of  acres,  with  water,  grass, 
everything,  even  a  considerable  bunch  of  wild  cattle. 
There  was  no  one  in  the  country  then,  and  the  cattle 
were  not  even  worth  stealing.  He  lived  here  alone 
for  years,  found  gold  somewhere,  and  got  enough  to 
develop  this  property.  At  first  he  did  not  know  whether 
he  was  in  Mexico  or  the  United  States,  but  at  last 
secured  title  to  the  land,  brought  men  in  to  help,  and 
began  to  raise  and  ship  stock.  The  Indians  never 
troubled  him  much,  but  rustlers  did,  both  Yank  and 
Mexican.  They  had  a  regular  trail  through  those  hills 
to  the  east.  It  is  used  yet  occasionally;  I  rode  out 
there  with  Tom  Meager  once,  and  it  is  like  a  road " 

"  Yes,  I've  seen  it,"  Kelleen  interrupted,  "  running 
through  Glorietta  Canyon.  There's  another  trail  also 
down  Box  Creek." 

"Thousands  upon  thousands  of  stolen  cattle  were 
driven  along  there  north  and  south,  and  oftentimes  they 
tried  to  pick  up  some  of  the  Meager  stock  in  passing. 
For  years  they  were  fighting  almost  all  the  time.  Then 
soldiers  came  and  patroled  the  border,  and  broke  the 
trade  up  very  largely." 

"But  not  altogether?" 

"No;  there  is  still  some  cattle  stealing,  of  course, 
but  most  of  those  fellows  find  it  more  profitable  now  to 
run  arms,  ammunition,  and  supplies  across  into  Mexico. 

(92) 


THE  ROAD  TO  SILVER  SPRINGS 

There  is  a  lot  of  that  being  done,  I  am  told,  but  the 
men  engaged  do  not  bother  the  ranch  much.  Occa- 
sionally they  kill  a  steer  for  meat,  but  it  doesn't  pay  to 
run  them  off." 

"You  have  a  pretty  clear  idea  of  the  situation,  young 
lady!"  the  man  said  quietly.  "There  is  just  as  much 
deviltry  here  as  there  ever  was,  but  it  has  taken  a  new 
form.  And  another  change  is  impending,  unless  I  mis- 
interpret the  signs.  Tom  Meager  ran  this  ranch 
straight  and  fought  for  his  rights  like  a  man.  Every- 
body along  the  border  knew  that,  and  respected  the  old 
man.  But  this  cub  of  his  is  another  proposition.  The 
whole  border  brood  contains  nothing  worse  than  Bob 
Meager.  He  is  low-down  mean,  and  has  been  a  thief, 
and  an  associate  of  thieves,  all  his  life.  It  doesn't  make 
any  difference  how  I  know  all  this  —  I  do  know  it." 
There  was  a  bitterness  to  Kelleen's  voice  which  startled 
the  girl. 

"You  hate  him?" 

He  laughed  lightly. 

"  Oh,  no ;  I  cannot  afford  to  do  that,  but  you  have 
got  me  started,  and  I  might  as  well  finish  up.  I  reckon 
you  know  the  fellow  fairly  well  yourself.  I  get  him 
from  another  angle.  It  is  not  clear  in  my  mind  yet 
exactly  how  he  got  possession  of  this  property.  Of 
course,  I  know  he  is  old  Tom's  son,  and  the  natural 

(93) 


GIFT  OF  THE  DESERT 


heir,  but  I  met  the  father  once  or  twice,  and  cannot 
believe  he  ever  put  the  ranch  unreservedly  into  Bob's 
hands,  giving  his  widow  nothing.  I'd  like  to  see  that 
will,  for  I'll  bet  all  I'm  worth  it's  phony." 

"He  —  he  inherited  by  will,  then?  I  never  heard 
how  he  gained  possession.  He  just  came  and  took 
charge.  Mrs.  Meager  was  not  even  able  to  get  away 
to  consult  a  lawyer  —  if  she  had  the  courage." 

"That  is  his  claim.  I  heard  about  it  in  Nogales. 
Garrity  drew  the  will,  as  I  understand,  and  still  holds 
it.  The  instrument  is  duly  recorded,  but  the  original 
remains  safely  in  possession  of  the  judge." 

"Is  that  regular?" 

"  Perhaps  so ;  not  being  a  lawyer,  I  can  only  guess 
at  the  regularity.  Of  course  it  will  have  to  be  produced 
in  court  for  final  settlement  of  the  estate;  but  I  don't 
think  they  anticipate  any  serious  questioning  as  to  the 
validity  of  the  document." 

She  stared  aside  at  her  companion  through  the  dark- 
ness, suddenly  surprised  by  the  change  in  his  language. 
The  man  quickly  noticed  her  movement,  and  chuckled 
good-humoredly. 

"Forgot  myself,  didn't  I?"  he  asked  carelessly, 
"  and  dropped  back  into  real  English.  Made  you  want 
to  question  a  bit?    All  right;  go  ahead." 

"It — it  is  no  business  of  mine,"  she  faltered  doubt- 

(94) 


THE  ROAD  TO  SILVER  SPRINGS 

fully,  "  but  I  had  to  wonder.    I  had  not  expected  any- 
thing like  that." 

"Of  a  mere  desert  tramp,  you  mean.  Well,  all 
sorts  of  driftwood  come  to  these  shores.  I  make  no 
claim,  except  to  a  reasonably  good  education.  Just 
now  it  is  of  small  value,  however  pleasant  to  possess. 
But  let  that  slide;  we  were  discussing  Bob  Meager, 
and  not  myself.  The  will  will  be  probated  without 
trouble,  I  reckon,  as  I  have  heard  of  no  contest." 

"  Could  it  be  contested?" 

"  The  widow  could  claim  her  dower  rights." 

11  But  Mrs.  Meager  would  not  dare.  She  is  helpless, 
and  cannot  even  leave  the  ranch." 

"  So  I  gathered  from  others.  There  are  no  friends, 
then,  to  take  her  part?" 

"Absolutely  none.  I  doubt  if  sne  knows  a  soul  in 
this  country;  she  is  an  invalid,  and  in  deadly  fear  of 
her  stepson." 

"And  you  have  heard  of  no  other  will? " 

"  Not  a  word.  Mr.  Meager's  death  was  very  sud- 
den, an  accident.  His  wife's  sickness  prevented  his 
confiding  business  matters  to  her,  but  I  am  sure  she  was 
very  dear  to  him,  and  he  would  never  have  left  her  to 
suffer.    He  was  a  splendid  man." 

"I  thought  so  myself.  He  was  found  dead  on  the 
trail,  I  heard?" 

(95) 


GIFT  OF  THE  DESERT 


"Yes,  his  horse  came  home  without  him.  There 
was  an  inquest,  the  evidence  going  to  show  that  his 
horse  stumbled  and  threw  him ;  his  head  struck  a  rock, 
and  was  badly  crushed." 

"A  skilled  horseman,  was  he  not?  " 

"  Yes;  but  he  might  have  been  thrown,  if  the  horse 
fell." 

"  Of  course.    May  I  ask  if  you  saw  the  wound?  " 

"Yes;  there  was  no  doctor,  so  they  made  use  of  me. 
He  was  dead  then;  had  been  for  some  hours.  The 
skull  was  crushed  in,  a  jagged  wound  which  might  have 
been  made  by  a  sharp  rock.  I  suspected  nothing  else 
at  the  time." 

"Naturally  not,  and  since  then?" 

"Nothing  I  can  put  in  words,"  she  confessed  hesi- 
tatingly, "  without  a  more  careful  examination." 

"  You  testified  at  the  inquest?  " 

"  No ;  I  was  not  called.  A  doctor  was  brought  out 
from  Nogales." 

"Then  probably  you  never  saw  the  man  who  con- 
ducted that  inquest." 

"No;  I  remained  with  Mrs.  Meager  in  her  room. 
She  was  very  much  broken  down.    Who  was  he  ?  " 

"Judge  Cornelius  Garrity,  who  thus  manages  to 
become  the  central  figure  in  the  whole  tragedy.  This 
interested  me  from  the  first,  and  more  than  ever  now 

(96) 


THE  ROAD  TO  SILVER  SPRINGS 

that  I  have  met  you.  You  see,  I  know  Garrity,  and 
there  is  not  a  wickeder  old  devil  in  Arizona.  He  never 
did  a  straight  thing  in  his  life." 

"You — you  mean  there  has  been  fraud?  a  forged 
will?" 

"I  am  prepared  to  suspect  almost  anything  with 
Bob  Meager  and  Garrity  as  bed-mates,"  he  asserted 
gravely.  "  They  are  capable.  Bob  is  simply  a  brainless 
brute,  but  the  other  is  another  type,  far  more  dan- 
gerous. Garrity  has  been  a  lawyer,  a  saloon-keeper, 
a  gambler,  and  is  now  a  justice  of  the  peace.  It  is  com- 
mon talk  that  not  a  gun  or  cartridge  crosses  the  border 
but  what  he  gets  something  out  of  it." 

11  Why  do  you  tell  me  all  this  ?  " 

"  Tis  odd,  isn't  it,  the  way  I've  got  talking  tonight," 
he  admitted  in  surprise.  "  Usually  I  don't  talk  much, 
especially  with  strangers.  The  truth  is,  I  suspect,  I 
rather  like  you,  and  then  we've  got  to  be  together  for 
awhile.  Somehow  it  seems  natural  to  tell  you  these 
things.  My  notion  is  this,  that  Garrity  fixed  this  whole 
matter  up  for  a  purpose.  Maybe  circumstances  helped 
it  along,  and  maybe  they  didn't.  I  ain't  so  sure  myself 
that  old  Tom  Meager  died  a  natural  death.  Anyhow, 
everything  was  ready — the  only  known  will  locked  in 
Garrity's  safe,  and  Bob  close  enough  at  hand  to  take 
possession  almost  before  his  father's  body  was  cold. 

(97) 


GIFT  OF  THE  DESERT 


By  the  time  the  funeral  was  over  he  had  discharged  half 
the  old  men  on  the  ranch,  and  brought  in  Mexicans  to 
take  their  places.  Since  then  all  the  old  hands  have 
gone  —  what  does  that  mean?" 

"  I  am  sure  I  do  not  know." 

"  Well,  I  can  guess,  from  my  acquaintance  with  Bob 
and  Garrity,  and  their  associates.  These  fellows  im- 
ported are  no  Mexican  cowboys.  That  Juan  Sanchez 
has  a  price  on  his  head;  the  Indian,  Pedro,  is  known 
as  a  cattle  thief,  and  I  doubt  if  there  is  a  greaser  in 
the  bunch  who  hasn't  a  record  somewhere  below  the 
line.  I  tell  you,  those  birds  have  something  up  their 
sleeve  beside  cattle-raising;  that's  only  a  bluff.  It  is 
either  gun-running,  or  whisky,  or  both.  I  heard  whis- 
pers in  Nogales " 

"That  was  what  brought  you  up  here?" 

"Well,  no;  only  incidentally.  But,  good  Lord,  I 
never  talked  so  much  in  my  life  before.  What  is  that 
ahead?  A  pile  of  stones?  Then  we  are  at  Silver 
Springs,  and  business  is  about  to  begin." 


(98) 


CHAPTER  X 

COVERING  THE  TRAIL 

DEBORAH  could  perceive  nothing,  except  the 
dimly  visible  heap  of  stones  which  Kelleen  pointed 
out.  All  around  stretched  the  black  void  of  the  desert, 
silent  and  full  of  mystery.  The  distant  stars  yielded 
a  dim,  spectral  light,  yet  there  was  nothing  the  eye 
could  rest  upon  amid  the  dead  level  of  surrounding  sand. 
The  wind  blew  steadily,  occasionally  stinging  her  face 
with  grit,  and  not  a  sound  reached  her  ears.  The  silent 
loneliness  closed  about  them  like  the  walls  of  a  room. 
The  girl  had  remained  almost  unconscious  of  this  in- 
tense barrenness  as  they  had  talked  together,  but  now 
suddenly  awakened  to  a  sense  of  the  desolate  surround- 
ings. She  was  alone  with  this  man,  fleeing  for  her 
life  into  unknown  danger.  However  this  realization 
shocked  her,  their  arrival  at  the  spot  sought  for  only 
served  to  arouse  her  male  companion  to  more  energetic 
action.  Whatever  spirit  had  animated  him  during  that 
hour's  pleasant  ride  was  as  quickly  forgotten,  and  the 
instinct  of  the  plainsman  instantly  became  dominant. 
As  the  horses  came  to  a  stop,  he  turned  in  the  saddle, 

(99) 


GIFT  OF  THE  DESERT 


peering  back  through  the  veil  of  darkness  toward  the 
Meager  ranch. 

"  Everything  seems  all  right  so  far,"  he  commented 
quietly.  "  They  are  still  drunk  and  asleep  back  there, 
I  reckon.  Now  we've  got  to  throw  them  off  the 
trail." 

"You  are  sure  they  will  follow  us?" 

11  Sure ;  there  is  nothing  else  to  be  expected.  If  Bob 
is  killed  there  will  be  no  doubt  in  their  minds  as  to  who 
did  it,  for  the  body  will  be  in  your  room.  Garrity  will 
have  every  reason  to  run  you  down.  So  will  Meager 
if  he  still  lives.    They  don't  dare  to  let  you  escape." 

"But  surely  those  men  cannot  fear  me?" 

"Nevertheless  they  will.  Those  birds  are  up  to 
crime  of  some  kind,  and  will  suspect  you  know  some- 
thing. They  do  not  want  a  word  to  leak  out  as  to  what 
is  going  on  here." 

"  They  will  miss  you  also ;  someone  must  have  known 
you  were  there." 

"  Of  course ;  but  they  will  not  suspect  me  of  any  con- 
nivance with  your  escape.  I  cannot  explain  now,  but 
those  fellows  consider  me  all  right.  I  come  and  go 
as  I  please,  and  my  absence  will  mean  nothing  to  them. 
Garrity  will  believe  you  became  desperate  enough  to 
try  and  get  away  alone.  That  is  why  they  will  start 
on  this  trail  first  of  all,  but  they  will  have  to  follow 

(100) 


COVERING  THE  TRAIL 


blind — at  least  I  am  aiming  to  leave  very  little  for 
them  to  follow,  beyond  here." 

He  grasped  her  bridle  rein,  the  two  horses  moving 
forward  at  a  walk,  circling  to  the  left  of  the  stone 
marker.  Even  in  that  dim  starlight  Deborah  felt  con- 
vinced they  were  still  following  the  Nogales  trail,  which 
was  rutted  with  wheel  tracks.  A  hundred  feet  beyond, 
the  faint  sound  of  the  horses'  hoofs  gave  evidence  that 
they  passed  along  a  narrow  ridge  of  rock.  Suddenly 
Kelleen  came  to  a  pause,  leaning  forward  in  the  saddle 
to  see  more  clearly. 

"You  have  no  memory  of  how  things  are  here?" 
he  asked. 

"No;  only  that  the  springs  are  over  to  the  left 
yonder." 

"Then  listen;  there  is  an  outer  opening  of  rock 
which  swerves  here  to  the  right,  and  runs  almost  di- 
rectly east  for  two  hundred  yards.  It  is  not  wide,  but 
I  am  sure  you  can  trace  it  in  the  starlight — see;  it  runs 
there." 

She  looked  eagerly  where  he  pointed,  and  could 
dimly  perceive  the  lighter  surface  outlined  against  the 
sand. 

"Yes." 

"  Follow  that  alone  carefully;  go  just  as  far  as  pos- 
sible, and  then  wait  there  for  me.  There  is  no  danger, 

(101) 


GIFT  OF  THE  DESERT 


so  you  keep  close  to  the  rocks.  Keep  to  the  center 
so  the  horse  will  leave  no  imprint." 

"And  what  are  you  going  to  do?" 

"  Ride  straight  ahead  down  the  trail;  then  circle  back 
through  a  gully,  and  meet  you  out  yonder.  Don't  be 
afraid;  just  wait.  I'll  come,  although  it  may  require 
half  an  hour  or  more  for  me  to  make  the  trip  safely; 
I've  got  to  cover  every  trace  after  I  once  strike  out 
into  the  desert." 

She  watched  him  ride  away,  vanishing  quickly  into 
the  gloom,  his  horse's  hoofs  making  no  sound  in  the 
soft  sand.  Instantly  she  began  urging  her  own  mount 
along  the  narrow  rock  ridge,  experiencing  no  difficulty, 
however,  as  the  intelligent  animal  picked  his  path  care- 
fully, very  much  as  though  he  had  traveled  that  same 
route  before.  Growing  confident,  Deborah  loosened 
her  grip  on  the  rein,  permitting  the  horse  cautiously  to 
select  his  own  way,  watchful  only  that  he  did  not  stray 
from  the  narrow  path  of  rock.  Where  this  very  plainly 
ended  she  drew  the  animal  to  a  halt,  and  sat  upright 
in  the  saddle,  staring  wonderingly  about  into  the  silent 
desolation.  There  was  nothing  either  to  see  or  hear; 
darkness  shut  down  all  about  her,  but  for  the  soft  glow 
of  those  wonderful  stars  overhead,  dimly  outlining  the 
arc  of  the  sky.  This  was  not  a  dense,  impenetrable 
darkness,  but  rather  as  though  one  peered  into  heavy 

(102) 


COVERING  THE  TRAIL 


mist,  through  which  near-by  objects  might  be  dimly 
perceived.  But  there  were  no  objects  visible  —  only 
a  dead,  motionless  level  of  sand,  across  which  the  wind 
swept  unchecked  and  noiseless,  bearing  with  it  the  sand 
spray  to  lash  her  face  as  with  so  many  sharp  needles. 

How  unutterably  barren  and  desolate  it  all  was; 
even  the  points  of  compass  were  blotted  out;  she  was 
alone  and  lost,  except  for  that  rock  ridge  along  which 
they  had  found  passage.  In  the  somber  silence  her 
mind  traveled  back  over  all  that  had  happened  that 
night.  She  had  no  time  before  for  thought;  she  had 
been  continuously  forced  onward  by  circumstances  be- 
yond control,  driven  blindly.  But  now  everything  which 
had  occurred  so  swiftly  during  those  past  few  hours 
swept  over  her  in  memory  like  a  flood.  She  had  enjoyed 
no  time,  no  opportunity  for  any  choice;  had  simply 
been  compelled  to  accept  whatever  came.  What  had 
this  led  her  into?  What  was  the  end  now  before  her? 
It  all  seemed  more  a  horrible  dream  than  any  reality 
of  life.  It  was  beyond  belief ,  beyond  experience ;  that 
such  things  were  even  possible  seemed  utterly  beyond 
reason. 

Yet  memory  would  not  die,  or  be  deceived.  The 
very  loneliness  in  which  she  sat,  bowing  helplessly  be- 
fore the  sand  storm,  waiting,  drove  the  whole  truth 
home  to  her  consciousness.    It  was  true  —  all  of  it  was 

(103) 


GIFT  OF  THE  DESERT 


true.  The  death  of  old  Tom  Meager;  the  return  of 
the  renegade  son;  his  brutal  assumption  of  control; 
the  glow  of  lust  in  his  eyes  at  their  first  meeting;  and 
then  —  then  the  happenings  of  this  last  night.  Had 
she  done  right?  She  dare  not  even  attempt  to  answer 
the  question.  She  did  not  know;  yet  even  then  saw 
no  other  course  she  might  have  chosen.  Indeed,  she 
had  been  given  no  choice ;  fate  had  relentlessly  thrust 
everything  upon  her.  From  the  first  threat  uttered 
by  Bob  Meager  to  this  very  moment  she  had  been  but 
a  chip  tossed  helplessly  on  the  stream  of  events.  And 
now  —  now  she  was  there  waiting,  amid  all  this  deso- 
lation, for  the  return  of  a  strange  man,  whose  face 
she  never  had  seen.  The  whole  situation  seemed  im- 
possible, yet  she  could  not  doubt  its  actual  reality. 
She  was  not  dreaming;  she  was  wide  awake. 

Yet  as  she  reviewed  all  the  events  leading  up  to  this 
situation  the  girl  could  not  perceive  where  she  might 
have  done  otherwise.  The  impossibility  of  leaving 
the  ranch  unaided;  the  openly  avowed  purpose  of  Bob 
Meager;  the  forced  marriage;  the  drunken  assault; 
the  blind  effort  at  escape,  believing  she  had  killed  the 
man  in  self-defense ;  and  the  unexpected  meeting  with 
Kelleen — all  these  had  been  utterly  beyond  her  con- 
trol. Even  after  that  scarcely  a  choice  had  been  left 
her.    The  man  had  to  be  accepted  as  a  friend,  or  else 

(104) 


COVERING  THE  TRAIL 


left  behind  as  an  enemy.  He  was  in  position  to  either 
serve  or  betray  her,  as  he  chose,  and  there  was  that 
about  his  personality  which  had  won  her  faith.  What 
it  was  she  hardly  knew,  nor  did  she  have  the  slightest 
conception  still  who  the  man  actually  was.  His  evi- 
dent dislike  of  Meager  and  Garrity  meant  nothing, 
except  perhaps  as  thus  explaining  his  willingness  to 
befriend  her  against  them.  Even  thieves  fall  out,  and 
she  could  not  conceive  this  fellow  as  anything  but  an 
outlaw.  His  very  presence  at  the  ranch  presupposed 
this,  while  his  attempt  at  concealment  made  it  even 
more  probable.  Kelleen  knew  altogether  too  much 
to  be  entirely  innocent;  indeed  had  confessed  enough 
already  to  cause  Deborah  to  believe  him  a  border  out- 
cast, involved  in  the  same  criminal  scheme  as  these 
others  with  whom  he  evidently  associated.  He  had 
never  idly  drifted  to  the  Meager  ranch,  but  had  come 
there  with  definite  purpose,  seeking  refuge,  if  nothing 
else. 

However,  in  spite  of  this  knowledge,  the  girl 
strangely  felt  a  measure  of  confidence  in  the  man.  She 
had  seen  him  as  only  a  dark,  ill-defined  shape  in  the 
night.  She  had  gained  no  glimpse  of  his  features,  but 
she  liked  his  voice,  the  genial  yet  respectful  way  in 
which  he  addressed  her,  the  cool  assurance  with  which 
he  had  taken  complete  control;  whatever  the  fellow's 

(105) 


GIFT  OF  THE  DESERT 


past  might  have  been,  she  felt  confidence  in  him,  be- 
lieved firmly  that  he  was  really  endeavoring  honestly 
to  serve  her  in  this  emergency.  What  his  secret  pur- 
pose might  be  mattered  little,  although  her  impression 
was  that  it  arose  from  a  desire  to  revenge  himself  on 
Meager,  rather  than  any  deep  interest  he  personally 
felt  toward  herself.  Yet  as  she  sat  there  waiting,  her 
eyes  anxiously  searching  the  black  shadows,  she  was 
aware  of  the  rapid  beating  of  her  heart  in  eager  desire 
for  his  return. 

It  seemed  a  long  while,  so  long  as  to  almost  frighten 
her,  before  she  became  aware  of  his  approach.  Indeed, 
he  was  actually  beside  her  on  foot  before  she  recog- 
nized his  presence,  approaching  silently  from  the  oppo- 
site direction  from  that  anticipated.  Her  startled  gaze 
had  scarcely  distinguished  his  dim  outline,  when  he 
spoke,  his  hand  already  grasping  her  horse's  rein. 

"  There,  that  is  over  with,"  he  said  genially.  "  Now 
I'll  lead  you  for  the  next  five  hundred  yards.  After 
that  we'll  do  some  real  riding." 

Where  their  course  led  she  could  not  clearly  deter- 
mine from  the  saddle,  but  they  moved  forward  slowly. 
Kelleen  spoke  soothingly  to  the  horse,  the  animal  fol- 
lowing the  man's  guidance,  seemingly  along  a  very 
narrow  ridge  of  outcropping  rock,  barely  wide  enough 
to  permit  his  hoofs  to  cling  to  its  exposed  surface.  This 

(106) 


COVERING  THE  TRAIL 


passage  led  downward  very  gradually,  until  Deborah 
realized  that  they  were  slightly  below  the  surface  of  the 
desert  itself,  with  walls  of  sand  rising  on  either  side. 
After  some  hundred  yards  had  been  traversed,  the  path 
led  upward  once  again,  the  horse's  hoofs  now  sinking 
into  deep  sand.  Then  a  horse  whinnied  just  in  front 
of  them,  and  the  next  instant  she  could  make  out  the 
darker  shadow.  Kelleen  released  his  grip,  with  a  little 
laugh  of  relief. 

11  Lonely,  old  fellow  ?  Well,  I  won't  leave  you  again. 
Now  we've  got  a  straightaway  ride  for  it,  Miss 
Meredith." 

"You  were  hiding  the  trail?" 

"Yes;  one  cannot  be  too  careful  in  these  things. 
Those  fellows  will  head  on  down  Nogales  way,  while 
these  rock  ridges  will  leave  no  trace." 

"Evidently  you  have  used  them  before  for  a  similar 
purpose?" 

"I'll  say  I  have,"  carelessly.  "And  what  is  more 
this  is  a  secret  which  I  prefer  keeping  to  myself.  Now 
I'll  lead  off,  and  you  follow.  You'll  have  to  keep  up 
pretty  close  to  see  me  in  the  dark,  and  there  will  be  no 
noise  to  guide  you  in  this  sand." 

"But — if  I  should  lose  you?"  she  asked,  staring 
about,  half  frightened  by  the  thought. 

"No  danger;  the  horse  you're  on  won't  get  lost. 
(107) 


GIFT  OF  THE  DESERT 


But  if  you  miss  me  call  out;  there's  no  one  to  hear  in 
this  desert.     Ready  now?" 

He  swung  into  the  saddle,  and  faced  her  waiting. 

"Yes." 

"  Then  we'll  ride  fast,  and  don't  be  afraid ;  it's  level 
as  a  floor." 


(108) 


CHAPTER  XI 

MUTUAL  RECOGNITION 

THE  girl  rode  low  in  the  saddle,  her  head  bent 
forward  to  protect  her  eyes  from  the  shower  of 
grit  hurled  against  her  by  the  ceaseless  wind.  Confident 
of  the  sagacity  of  her  horse,  she  no  longer  endeavored 
to  keep  even  the  vague  outline  of  Kelleen  in  view.  They 
had  been  riding  hard  for  more  than  an  hour,  appar- 
ently, and,  as  near  as  she  could  determine  from  the 
stars,  in  a  straight  line  across  the  dead  level  of  the 
desert.  The  man  evidently  knew  his  course  perfectly, 
and  was  heading  direct  for  some  refuge,  pushing 
forward  recklessly  in  an  effort  to  reach  the  chosen  spot 
before  daybreak.  Deborah  was  conscious  now  of  her 
extreme  weariness;  she  could  only  cling  grimly  to  her 
seat,  aching  in  every  muscle,  blindly  following  his  lead. 
She  knew  the  horse  under  her  was  panting  for  breath, 
his  sides  wet  with  sweat,  but  Kelleen  never  once  drew 
rein,  or,  to  her  knowledge,  even  glanced  back  to  assure 
himself  of  her  presence.  From  the  little  glimpses  she 
occasionally  gained  of  him,  he  apparently  sat  straight 
in  the  saddle,  tireless  and  alert.  There  were  moments 
when  she  felt  she  must  actually  cry  out,  her  nerves  fail- 
OOP) 


GIFT  OF  THE  DESERT 


ing  her,  but  she  crushed  the  desire  back,  and  rode  on, 
dulled  with  fatigue,  becoming  finally  scarcely  conscious 
of  her  surroundings. 

Then  Deborah  became  aware  that  .the  sky  before 
them  was  growing  lighter;  she  could  see  the  man  and 
horse  more  distinctly,  and  even  distinguish  a  narrow 
vista  of  the  encircling  sand  plain.  The  stars  overhead 
began  to  pale,  while  a  sickly  gray  overspread  the  hori- 
zon. It  was  the  coming  of  the  dawn,  and  the  girl 
straightened  up  in  the  saddle,  aroused  to  a  new  interest, 
and  forgetful  of  her  intense  weariness,  as  her  heavy 
eyes  endeavored  to  view  the  desert  scene.  The  faint 
light  rendered  everything  excessively  lonely,  with  no 
outstanding  landmark  visible,  only  the  changeless 
monotony  of  sand,  lying  almost  level,  except  where  the 
wind  had  swept  it  into  low  ridges,  and  stretching  in 
every  direction.  It  was  all  gray  both  above  and  below, 
the  sky  and  earth  blending  in  one  gloomy  picture  of 
desolation.  The  only  spot  of  relieving  color  appeared 
vaguely  as  she  gazed  about,  far  off  there  to  the  right,  a 
shapeless  purple  haze,  which  she  slowly  comprehended 
must  be  the  distant  mesa  from  which  she  had  fled — the 
isolated  Meager  ranch.  All  else  was  barren,  colorless, 
lifeless,  a  drear,  and,  apparently,  endless  desert,  before 
which  her  heart  quailed.  Never  before  had  it  seemed 
to  her  so  cruelly  heartless. 

(110) 


MUTUAL  RECOGNITION 


Her  eyes  and  thought  centered  on  the  figure  of  the 
man  riding  steadily  in  front.  He  never  turned  in  the 
saddle,  or  glanced  about,  but  was  evidently  searching 
that  dull  vista  in  their  front,  seeking  some  sign  of  guid- 
ance through  the  dim  light.  She  could  obtain  no  glimpse 
of  his  face,  not  even  its  contour,  yet  how  straight  he  sat 
in  the  saddle,  his  shoulders  thrown  back,  his  left  hand 
grasping  the  rein  lightly.  His  seat  was  that  of  the 
trained,  disciplined  cavalryman,  rather  than  the  cowboy, 
and  she  could  but  mark  how  easily  his  body  followed 
the  slightest  movement  of  the  animal  under  him.  He 
was  tall,  erect,  strong,  young,  no  doubt  of  that,  the  hair 
showing  below  his  wide  hat  brim,  a  dark  russet  brown. 
Suddenly,  but  without  glancing  back  he  pointed  into  the 
grim,  gray  desert  ahead. 

"Do  you  see  anything  over  yonder?"  he  asked. 
"Just  ahead  there  —  a  hundred  yards?" 

She  stared  where  he  pointed,  both  halting  their 
horses,  but  could  perceive  nothing  except  the  same  drear 
expanse  of  sand. 

"No;  what  is  it?" 

"  One  of  nature's  marvels ;  the  place  I'm  heading  for. 
You  can  be  within  ten  yards  and  never  know  it  is  there." 
He  turned  and  faced  her  smilingly.  "  Made  it  straight 
through  the  night,  too.    Why,  what's  the  matter?" 

She  was  staring  at  him  through  the  dim  light, 
(111) 


GIFT  OF  THE  DESERT 


her  lips  parted,  her  eyes  expressive  of  fear.  For 
the  moment  she  did  not  speak,  and  he  asked  again 
anxiously. 

14  What  is  it ?    Are  you  afraid  ofme?" 

"I  —  I  know  now  who  you  are,"  she  managed  to  say. 
"You— you  are  the  'Frisco  Kid.'" 

A  moment  his  lips  shut  tight,  a  bit  grimly;  then  he 
laughed. 

uOh,  is  that  the  trouble?  How  do  you  know  I  am 
*  Frisco?'  and,  if  I  am,  what  possible  difference  does  it 
make?" 

"  But  you  are,  are  you  not?" 

"  Sure ;  but  how  did  you  guess  ?  " 

" I  didn't  guess;  I  saw  you  before,  and  knew  you  as 
soon  as  you  turned,  with  the  light  on  your  face." 

"If  you  had  recognized  me  last  night,  you'd  never 
have  been  here,  I  reckon?" 

"  No  —  no ;  I  couldn't  have  come — with  you.  Yet  I 
ought  to  have  suspected  all  the  time.  I  saw  you  ride  in 
last  night  with  Judge  Garrity.  I  had  a  good  view  of 
your  face  from  my  window,  and  heard  Bob  Meager  call 
you  by  name." 

"No  doubt  that's  all  true  enough,  but  what  of  it? 
Outside  of  my  riding  in  with  Garrity  what  can  you  know 
about  the  'Frisco  Kid?'  I  never  pretended  to  be  an 
angel  when  you  first  took  up  with  me,  but  I  don't  per- 

(112) 


MUTUAL  RECOGNITION 


ceive  any  reason  why  that  name  should  scare  you  half 
to  death.    Ever  heard  of  me  before?" 

She  hesitated,  but  only  for  an  instant.  It  was  her 
nature  to  speak  truth. 

"  Yes,  I  have,"  she  answered  steadily,  looking  straight 
at  him,  yet  in  some  mysterious  way  not  the  least  afraid. 
"  I  have  been  led  to  believe  you  a  most  desperate  char- 
acter, an  outlaw,  a  criminal,  with  a  price  on  your  head. 
I  have  been  told  many  of  your  exploits  —  and,  and; 
but  why  compel  me  to  repeat  all  this?" 

"Because  it  is  extremely  interesting,  for  one  thing; 
quite  flattering  for  even  a  better  reason.  If  we  are 
going  to  continue  being  friends  —  and  I  insist  that  we 
are — we  shall  have  to  come  to  a  mutual  understanding. 
What  am  I  in  your  estimation?  A  robber  and  thief,  I 
suppose?" 

"Yes,  everything  which  goes  with  a  border  des« 
perado." 

"  Even  murder  hinted  at?  " 

"Yes." 

"And  who  told  you  all  this  rot  —  Bob  Meager?" 

"Oh,  no;  I  heard  all  about  you  before  he  ever  came 
back.  That  was  months  ago;  there  were  soldiers 
through  here  searching  for  you,  a  major  and  twenty 
cavalrymen." 

"What  major?" 

(113) 


GIFT  OF  THE  DESERT 


"  His  name  was  Reynolds." 

Kelleen  chuckled,  and  leaned  suddenly  forward, 
placing  his  hand  squarely  on  hers  where  it  rested  on  the 
saddle  pommel.  Somehow  she  made  no  effort  to  with- 
draw her  fingers  from  the  contact,  and  their  eyes  met. 

" '  Pop '  Reynolds,  hey ! "  he  said  lightly.  "  Then  I 
am  sure  his  story  must  have  been  a  good  one.  So  he 
told  you  I  was  a  mighty  bad  man?  Well,  now  youVe 
met  me,  do  you  believe  it?" 

"I  —  I  don't  know,"  she  confessed  doubtfully.  "I  — 
I  would  rather  not  think  that." 

"  Which  is  a  hopeful  sign.  Well,  please  try  not  to 
think  so  for  the  next  half-hour,  at  least.  Then  maybe, 
I  can  tell  you  my  side  of  the  story.  There  is  no  time 
now,  for  weVe  simply  got  to  get  under  cover.  Do  you 
see  that  blue  ridge  over  yonder  ?  You  know  what  it  is  ?  " 

"The  Meager  ranch,  isn't  it?" 

"Yes,  and  in  twenty  minutes,  as  soon  as  the  mist 
rises,  they  could  pick  us  out  from  there  with  a  good 
field  glass.  We'll  have  to  find  a  safer  place  to  talk  in 
than  this.    How  is  it — gone  plumb  back  on  me?" 

She  managed  to  smile. 

" No;  somehow  you  won't  let  me  do  that." 

"  Good;  then  let's  finish  up  this  little  job.  Here,  I'll 
lead  the  horses ;  it's  only  a  step  to  the  rim ;  then  we'll 
both  have  to  make  the  descent  afoot." 

(114) 


MUTUAL  RECOGNITION 


They  moved  forward  slowly,  into  what  appeared  to 
be  the  interminable  desert,  the  man  plowing  his  way 
through  sand,  the  tired  animals  following  with  drooping 
heads.  Deborah  could  perceive  no  difference  in  the 
drear  landscape,  although  her  heart  beat  fast  in  antici- 
pation. The  sudden  identification  of  her  companion 
had  given  a  new,  strange  turn  to  the  adventure,  but  she 
had  gone  so  far  already  any  retreat  now  was  manifestly 
impossible.  Her  mind  was  confused,  yet  this  much,  at 
least,  remained  clear  —  she  was  in  his  power,  and  must 
trust  his  word.  Oddly  it  was  not  hard  to  do ;  deep  in 
her  heart  she  liked  the  man. 

Suddenly  he  stopped,  gripping  the  reins  tightly,  and 
pointing  with  his  other  hand.  Deborah  needed  no 
guidance,  for  her  eyes  were  already  riveted  on  the 
yawning  gash  in  the  surface  of  the  desert,  staring  down 
with  a  startled  feeling  of  awe  into  the  apparently  bot- 
tomless chasm  not  five  yards  away.  A  moment  she 
gazed,  hardly  comprehending,  too  thoroughly  dazed  by 
this  phenomena  of  nature  to  completely  grasp  its 
significance.  Then  she  felt  Kelleen  lift  her  bodily  from 
the  saddle,  and  lead  her  forward  to  the  very  edge. 
Below  lay  exposed  in  the  cold  gray  of  the  dawn  the  full 
marvel  —  a  deep  gorge,  as  though  scooped  out  by  a 
giant  spoon,  cut  directly  across  the  barren  sand  plain, 
with  no  evidence  anywhere  above  of  its  existence.    To 

(US) 


GIFT  OF  THE  DESERT 


the  eye  it  seemed  some  three  hundred  feet  wide,  but 
much  deeper,  the  side  walls  rocky  and  irregular,  the 
crevices  and  ravines  choked  with  sand,  while  far  below 
appeared  the  soft  green  of  vegetation,  and  along  the 
base  of  the  opposite  wall,  much  more  precipitous  than 
the  side  on  which  they  stood,  the  silvery  sparkle  of  a 
small  stream.  It  was  gloom  still  down  there,  a  shadowy 
picture  viewed  through  a  mist,  rendered  even  more  won. 
derful  by  its  alluring  dimness.  To  their  right  the  walls 
curved  sharply,  leaving  in  mystery  what  might  lie 
beyond.  Deborah  drew  a  quick  breath,  glancing  aside 
into  the  face  of  the  man  at  her  side. 

"This  is  what  you  meant  —  the  Devil's  Gulch?'* 

"  Yes ;  but  the  name  is  my  own.  Did  you  ever  before 
see  such  a  wonder?" 

11  Yet  it  is  beautiful  down  there.  How  can  anything 
like  that  be  possible,  here  in  the  heart  of  all  this  sand 
waste?    I  —  I  cannot  understand." 

"Nor  anyone  else.  Nature  keeps  her  own  secrets, 
although  doubtless  some  hidden  spring  is  the  explana- 
tion in  this  case;  ages  of  water  flow  have  wrought  the 
miracle.  But  what  worries  me  most  is,  have  others 
beside  myself  discovered  the  existence  of  this  oasis.  I 
found  it  purely  by  accident,  almost  fell  into  it  in  fact, 
while  riding  before  a  dust  storm." 

"You  have  been  down  there?" 
(116) 


MUTUAL  RECOGNITION 


"Yes;  the  descent  is  not  particularly  difficult  along 
those  ravines;  the  sand  gives  purchase,  even  the  horses 
will  pick  their  way." 

He  smiled  at  the  consternation  in  her  face. 

"What  is  it?"  he  questioned,  "  f  ear  of  the  passage, 
or  of  the 'Frisco  Kid?'" 

She  looked  straight  at  him  beneath  leveled  brows, 
conscious  of  the  sudden  flush  in  her  cheeks. 

"Neither;  I  am  not  afraid." 

11 1  did  not  believe  you  would  be,  for  you  are  not  that 
sort  at  all.  The  truth  is,  young  lady,  you  really  haven't 
so  much  on  me  in  this  matter  of  recognition.  I  happen 
to  know  quite  a  bit  about  you." 

"Aboutme?    You?    What,  may  I  ask?" 

"Just  a  bit,  as  I  say,  a  mere  picture  not  easily  for- 
gotten. I  saw  you  once,  before  ever  you  came  to 
Meager' s  ranch,  and  I  have  remembered  it  ever  since. 
When  daylight  came  that  memory  haunted  me  again, 
but  now  I've  got  it  all  figured  out.  You  do  not  under- 
stand?" 

"Certainly  not;  I  have  never  seen  you  until  last 
night." 

"Very  true,  which  was  my  misfortune.  Do  you 
remember  a  morning  in  August,  191 8,  when  the  Thirty- 
third  Division  went  over  the  top,  waded  a  river,  and 
cleaned  out  the  heights  beyond?    It  was  a  sharp  fight, 

(117) 


GIFT  OF  THE  DESERT 


and  lots  of  the  boys  never  came  back.  You  remember, 
don't  you  ?" 

"Yes." 

"Well,  I  was  there,  and  I  got  mine  about  eight 
o'clock.  Mine  must  have  been  plenty,  for  they  hauled 
me  back  to  the  first-line  hospital,  and  had  some  sort  of 
surgical  job  done,  before  I  ever  woke  up.  Then  I  was 
lying  there  in  the  shade  of  a  crumpled  wall,  along  with 
a  lot  of  other  fellows,  waiting  for  the  ambulance  to  pick 
us  up.    You  remember  that  too,  don't  you  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  the  tears  dimming  her  eyes.  "  They  were  so 
brave  and  still." 

"Well,  at  first  I  didn't  know  very  much.  The  man 
next  to  me  died,  and  the  nurse  who  was  with  him  —  she 
was  heavily  built  with  very  light  hair " 

"Jessie  Seevers." 

"  I  don't  know,  but  she  gave  me  a  drink  of  water, 
and  then  they  put  another  wounded  guy  into  the  place 
where  the  dead  body  had  been.  He  was  just  a  kid,  not 
more  than  seventeen,  I  reckon,  and  was  crying  like  a 
baby,  his  nerves  all  shot  to  pieces.  You  were  his  nurse, 
and  I  lay  there  and  watched  how  you  fixed  him  up.  It's 
not  likely  you've  forgot  that." 

"  No !  No ! "  she  bent  her  head.  "  He  was  from  my 
town;  he  —  he  died  that  night." 

"I  didn't  know,  for  they  took  me  away,  but  I  lay 
(118) 


MUTUAL  RECOGNITION 


there  and  watched  you  for  another  hour  before  the 
stretchers  came.  I  never  saw  you  again.  I  would  have 
liked  to  mighty  well,  and  I  won't  say  I  didn't  try,  but, 
you  see,  I  didn't  even  know  your  name  then  —  just  a 
memory  of  your  face." 

He  reached  out  his  hand  suddenly. 

"I  —  I  wish  you'd  shake  hands  with  me,"  he  said, 
almost  hesitating  at  his  boldness,  "  and  sorter  pretend 
to  forget  that ' Frisco  Kid'  business." 

"I  have  forgotten  it,"  she  answered  steadily,  their 
eyes  and  hands  meeting.  "You  were  a  soldier  in  my 
division;  I  believe  in  you,  and  am  your  friend." 


(119) 


CHAPTER  XII 


M 


THIS  strange  recognition  that  their  lives  had  pre- 
viously met,  brought  to  both  immediately  a 
greater  degree  of  confidence  and  faith.  To  Deborah, 
Kelleen  was  no  longer  a  bandit,  a  fleeing  fugitive  from 
justice,  but  a  soldier  who  had  been  wounded  in  battle, 
who  had  played  the  part  of  a  man;  while  to  him  the  girl 
was  no  longer  a  stray  runaway  in  whom  he  felt  little  in- 
terest, but  a  nurse  whose  face  had  haunted  his  memory 
since  he  had  first  watched  her  in  the  glow  of  the  French 
sun.  They  stood  there  on  the  rim  of  that  strange  crater, 
the  grim,  gray  desert  circling  them  about,  neither  able 
to  think  of  a  word  to  say.  Deborah's  eyes  fell,  and  she 
withdrew  her  hand,  turning  to  stare  into  the  depths 
below.  The  slight  movement  served  to  arouse  Kelleen 
to  the  situation. 

"  Well,  this  will  never  do,"  he  exclaimed,  new  cheer- 
fulness in  his  tone.  "  They  will  have  a  glass  trained  on 
us  over  there  before  we  get  to  cover.  We'll  send  the 
horses  down  first;  they'll  find  the  best  route  and  we  can 
follow.  Come,  Sultan,  over  you  go,  old  boy;  oh,  no, 
you're  not  afraid;  we've  done  this  little  trick  before. 
Goon,  sir!" 

(120) 


STORY  OF  THE  "FRISCO  KID 


He  struck  the  animal  with  the  flat  of  his  hand,  and, 
with  a  reproachful  shake  of  the  head,  Sultan  slowly  and 
cautiously  began  the  steep  descent,  seeking  a  path  along 
the  deeper  layers  of  sand,  and  zigzagging  from  gulch  to 
gulch  better  to  obtain  foothold.  The  other  horse  fol- 
lowed, but  not  without  a  struggle,  trembling  with  fear, 
and  keeping  close  to  the  trail  left  by  the  leader.  Kelleen 
touched  the  girl's  arm. 

"  Come,"  he  said  briefly,  a  bit  of  command  in  the 
voice.  "  Really  it  is  not  so  dangerous  as  it  looks  from 
here.  Sultan  has  found  the  best  trail,  and  we'll  drill 
along  after  him." 

He  searched  the  horizon  with  keen  eyes;  then 
shrugged  his  shoulders  rather  contentedly. 

"Ugly,  isn't  it?  but  for  that  tinge  of  red  in  the  east, 
and  that  spot  of  blue  yonder,  just  a  barren  gray  waste. 
And  yet,  do  you  know,  the  thing  somehow  gets  into  your 
blood,  and  you  learn  to  like  it.  I  get  sick  to  death  of 
the  desert,  but  I  always  drift  back  again;  there  is  fasci- 
nation about  its  very  loneliness  and  silence." 

"  Yes,  I  know,"  she  answered  slowly.  "I  —  I  hated 
it  when  I  first  came;  thought  I  could  not  bear  it  for 
another  hour.  But  now  the  dread  has  all  gone  away; 
it  never  seems  quite  the  same  any  more,  sometimes 
hard  and  cruel,  and  again  soft  and  friendly  —  but  ak 
ways  different  from  anything  else  in  the  world." 

(121) 


GIFT  OF  THE  DESERT 


He  laughed  bitterly. 

"  The  charm  is  that  of  a  rattlesnake  you  will  discover, 
as  treacherous  and  destructive.  I  distrust  its  every 
mood.    The  horses  are  already  at  the  bottom ;  let's  go." 

They  made  it  slowly,  picking  their  path  along  the 
trail  left  by  the  two  animals,  finding  purchase  in  the 
sand,  occasionally  steadied  by  an  outcropping  rock,  or 
the  exposed  root  of  some  clinging  shurb.  The  drop 
was  more  extensive  than  Deborah  previously  had  real- 
ized from  above,  and  the  sharp  descent  left  her  breath- 
less. The  enclosing  walls  towering  high  overhead, 
revealing  merely  a  narrow  strip  of  blue  sky,  and  the 
increasing  gloom,  as  they  descended  lower,  brought  to 
her  a  feeling  of  awe.  Kelleen  led  the  way,  occasionally 
turning  about  with  word  of  encouragement,  or  pointing 
out  a  better  course  than  the  one  he  had  just  taken.  Yet 
the  passage  was  neither  specially  hard,  nor  dangerous, 
merely  requiring  caution  and  a  clear  brain.  Once  she 
slipped,  but  he  caught  her  instantly,  laughing  lightly  at 
the  mishap,  and  the  girl  felt  no  sense  of  fear. 

The  sand  disappeared  as  they  reached  the  lower 
levels,  the  walls  becoming  sheer  rock,  but  slashed  with 
gullies,  and  finally  these  were  more  or  less  choked  with 
vegetable  growth.  At  the  bottom,  where  the  two  horses 
were  contentedly  munching  the  short  grass,  the  valley 
had  all  the  appearance  of  a  new  land,  made  fresh  and 

(122) 


STORY  OF  THE  "FRISCO  KID 


verdant  by  the  magic  touch  of  water.  There  were  small 
groves  of  trees  scattered  here  and  there,  interspersed 
amid  patches  of  greenest  verdure,  with  the  glimmer  of 
a  flowing  stream  winding  crookedly  in  the  midst. 
Coupled  with  those  high,  gray  walls  towering  on  every 
side,  barren  and  desolate,  and  the  memory  of  that  wide, 
seemingly  boundless  stretch  of  gray  desert  above,  the 
effect  was  weird,  scarcely  comprehensible.  Deborah  at 
the  foot  of  the  long  descent,  clung  to  the  projecting  root 
of  a  tree,  and  stared  about  her  with  wide-open  eyes, 
unable  to  restrain  her  amazement 

"  Why  this  is  simply  marvelous, "  she  exclaimed.  "  I 
did  not  appreciate  what  it  meant  from  up  there.  You 
have  been  down  here  before,  you  said?" 

"Yes,"  he  answered  soberly.  "Once,  but  with  no 
opportunity  to  explore  thoroughly.  I  intended  to  come 
back,  but  had  no  thought  I  should  have  a  companion." 

" But  is  this  all?  just  this  little  narrow  hole?" 

11 1  am  not  sure,  but  think  not.  I  believe  there  must 
be  a  sharp  turn  out  yonder,  and  perhaps  a  natural  slope,, 
or  entrance  at  the  farther  end.  I  mean  to  explore  a 
little  later,  after  we  eat  breakfast,  and  you  consent  to 
rest  awhile.  We  have  the  whole  day  before  us,  and 
will  not  venture  forth  again  until  night." 

"You — you  do  not  believe  you  are  the  only  one 
who  has  made  this  discovery?" 

(123) 


GIFT  OF  THE  DESERT 


"  No ;  that  is  hardly  probable.  There  were  reasons 
why  it  was  impossible  for  me  to  determine  the  truth 
when  I  was  here  before,  yet  I  found  evidences  that 
others  had  been  before  me  —  the  remains  of  a  camp 
fire,  an  exploded  cartridge  shell,  and  even  the  imprint  of 
cattle.  I  have  no  wish  to  frighten  you,  Miss  Deborah, 
but  my  idea  is  that  probably  this  place  has  been,  and 
perhaps  is  still,  a  hiding  place  for  thieves." 

"  Cattle  stealers,  you  mean?  " 

"  Yes,  and  munition  runners.  This  whole  border  is 
honey-combed  with  that  sort  of  thing,  and  this  hole  is 
certainly  an  ideal  hide-out.  It  is  not  more  than  a  hard 
night's  ride  from  the  border  line,  and  so  thoroughly 
hidden  away  that  I  never  even  suspicioned  its  existence 
until  I  accidentally  rode  straight  into  it;  and  I  thought 
I  knew  every  inch,  and  secret  of  this  desert  country. 
Come,  let's  sit  down  here,  and  eat  what  we  have,  for  I 
am  not  going  to  risk  a  fire,  and  I'll  tell  you  the  theory 
I've  worked  out.  I  may  be  all  wrong,  but  I'm  keen  to 
find  out  for  sure." 

"Please  do." 

The  bag  of  food  the  girl  had  secured  from  the  ranch 
kitchen  was  carefully  strapped  to  the  saddle  of  Sultan. 
Kelleen  procured  this  and  spread  the  contents  on  a 
strip  of  grass.  They  were  both  eating  when  he  resumed 
speech. 

(124) 


STORY  OF  THE  "FRISCO  KID 


"  I  am  inclined  to  think,"  he  said  gravely,  "  that  this 
has  been  a  rendezvous  for  that  sort  of  traffic  for  years. 
I  don't  believe  many  have  known  about  it,  or  else  some 
whispers  would  have  reached  me,  but  this  particular 
section  of  the  border  has  been  a  sore  spot  for  years. 
More  stuff  has  been  slipped  through  along  here  than  in 
all  the  rest  of  the  distance  between  Texas  and  Cali- 
fornia. I  happen  to  know  this  for  a  fact,  and  that  the 
government  has  never  yet  been  able  to  locate  the  leak. 
In  my  judgment  it  is  right  here.', 

"  Here?  "  her  eyes  half  frightened  at  his  sober  asser- 
tion, staring  into  the  silence.    "  Why,  how  could  it  be  ?  " 

"Very  easily;  someone  stumbled  on  this  place  just 
exactly  as  I  have  —  perhaps  several  somebodies  —  but 
my  present  notion  is  that  the  discoverer  was  either  Bob 
Meager,  or  one  of  the  disreputable  gang  he  has  with 
him.  His  determination  to  get  control  of  the  ranch  at 
his  father's  death,  the  fellows  he  has  brought  there  from 
across  the  line,  and  Garrity's  deep  interest  in  the  affair, 
all  combine  to  make  me  suspicious.  Do  you  see?  The 
ranch,  and  this  hole,  together,  make  an  ideal  outfit  for 
running  either  cattle  or  munitions  across  the  border, 
and  some  of  those  fellows  over  there  have  been  at  that 
job  for  years." 

"Then  how  do  you  dare  come  here  with  me?" 

11  Because  it  alone  promised  security  for  this  one  day. 
(125) 


GIFT  OF  THE  DESERT 


Tonight  we'll  go  on,  but  we  could  not  travel  across  the 
desert  in  daylight  without  being  seen." 

"  Nor  along  a  regular  trail?  " 

"  No ;  this  was  the  only  possible  hiding  place.  I  had 
every  reason  to  believe  we  would  find  it  unoccupied.  It 
certainly  was  yesterday,  with  no  fresh  signs  anywhere. 
In  my  judgment  those  fellows  have  not  begun  their  new 
work  yet;  they  are  merely  getting  ready,"  he  laughed. 
"Besides  this  is  largely  mere  suspicion  after  all;  per- 
haps I  am  altogether  wrong." 

Her  eyes  were  on  his  face  inquiringly. 

"You  dislike  Bob  Meager  very  much?" 

"  I  am  actually  afraid  I  do." 

"Was  that  why  you  were  so  willing  to  help  me?" 

"  Not  altogether ;  it  may  have  had  weight,  I  confess. 
Now,  however,  that  thought  has  gone  entirely." 

"And  Judge  Garrity?" 

"  He  is  utterly  despicable." 

"Yet  you  seemed  very  friendly  with  him  only  last 
night.    On  excellent  terms." 

He  smiled  good-naturedly. 

"You  are  quite  a  cross-examiner,  Miss  Meredith. 
Sometimes  you  know  it  becomes  necessary  to  play  a  part 
in  life.  What  is  the  cause  for  all  this  shrewd  ques- 
tioning?" 

"  I  hardly  know  myself,  but  it  is  all  so  strange,  and 
(126) 


STORY  OF  THE  "FRISCO  KID 


has  happened  so  suddenly.  I  am  just  beginning  to  think 
clearly.  Do  you  really  mind  if  I  ask  you  something 
more?" 

"  Not  in  the  least.  Now  that  I  really  know  who  you 
are,  I  am  rather  inclined  to  answer  most  questions 
frankly." 

"I  —  I  hope  you  will.  How  did  you  happen  to  serve 
in  the  Thirty-third  Division  —  they  were  all  Illinois 
troops?" 

II  So  you  even  noticed  that.    I  was  transferred." 
"  From  what  command?  " 

"  The  regulars." 

"Was  that  not  very  unusual?  You  —  you  were 
surely  an  enlisted  man?" 

II I  did  not  say  so,"  he  smiled  back,  "  and  now  that 
you  drive  me  to  a  confession,  I  might  as  well  make  a  full 
breast  of  it.  I  was  transferred  to  take  command  of  a 
company." 

"A  captain?" 

"Yes." 

"Why!"  she  drew  in  her  breath  sharply,  leaning 
forward  with  new  eagerness.  "Then  surely  you  are 
not  now  what  I  have  thought  you  to  be  —  an  outlaw,  a 
renegade?  You  are  not  really  the  —  the  *  Frisco 
Kid?1" 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  am.  At  least  I  am  all  the  '  Frisco  Kid* 
(127) 


GIFT  OF  THE  DESERT 


there  ever  was  to  the  best  of  my  knowledge,  although, 
I  fear  I  fail  to  line  up  entirely  with  the  reputation  so 
kindly  given  me  by  *  Pop '  Reynolds.  I  rather  regret 
this,  for  your  sake,  yet  no  one  could  possibly  equal  his 
imagination  in  real  life.  The  best  thing  I  can  do  is  tell 
you  the  truth,  isn't  it?  Very  well,  I  am  going  to  do 
just  that  —  do  you  know  why?" 

"  No  —  unless  because  you  think  I  may  have  guessed 
it  already?" 

"  Hardly,  for  it  would  be  easy  still  to  cause  you  to 
believe  otherwise.  The  real  reason  is  because  I  like 
you,  and  desire  to  retain  your  faith.  The  '  Frisco  Kid' 
is  an  entirely  manufactured  character,  made  for  a  prac- 
tical purpose.     Do  you  grasp  the  idea?" 

She  shook  her  head,  but  her  eager  eyes  belied  the 
action. 

"You  have  a  glimmer,  nevertheless.  I'll  explain. 
This  portion  of  the  border  has  been  a  hotbed  of  out- 
lawry for  years.  It  has  baffled  every  commanding 
officer  assigned  to  this  district.  We  had  no  information 
to  work  on ;  suspects  were  numerous,  but  proof  lacking. 
Finally  a  plan  of  action  was  evolved,  but  to  carry  it  out 
successfully,  a  desperado  with  an  established  reputation 
as  a  bad  man  was  first  of  all  most  essential.  With  this 
end  in  view  the  *  Frisco  Kid '  was  carefully  put  on  the 
stage.     Newspapers  along  the  coast,   and  near  the 

(128) 


STORY  OF  THE  "FRISCO  KID 


border,  began  to  note  his  exploits;  dispatches  regarding 
him  were  sent  east;  rewards  for  his  capture,  dead  or 
alive,  were  posted.  It  was  intimated,  finally,  when  his 
name  had  become  sufficiently  familiar,  that  he  had 
escaped  into  Mexico,  and  then  that  he  had  been  seen 
again  in  this  neighborhood.  Troops  were  dispatched 
to  run  him  down,  and  word  to  that  effect  scattered 
broadcast  on  both  sides  the  line." 

"Major  Reynolds?" 

"  Yes,  he  had  a  squad  out,  and,  evidently,  from  what 
you  tell  me,  did  a  fine  bit  of  advertising  on  his  own 
account.    You  see  the  purpose  of  it  all  ?  " 

"To  win  the  confidence  of  the  real  gang?" 

"Exactly;  and  it  worked.  At  least  we  have  a  far 
better  line  on  the  matter  than  we  had  three  months  ago ; 
the  end  is  already  in  sight." 

"But — but  you  run  such  a  terrible  risk?" 

"  Oh,  there  is  some  danger,  of  course.  The  lads  will 
kill,  no  doubt,  but  there  is  no  more  peril  than  any  soldier 
must  expect  to  face.    It  was  a  duty." 

"But  who  then  are  you?" 

"  Daniel  Kelleen,  just  as  I  told  you,  a  captain  in  the 
— rd  Cavalry." 

"You  —  you  volunteered  for  this  service?" 

"Yes;  you  see  it  was  impossible  for  the  Department 
to  use  any  officer  who  had  been  stationed  lately  along 

(129) 


GIFT  OF  THE  DESERT 


this  border.  Such  a  one  might  be  immediately  recog- 
nized, and  the  whole  scheme  ruined  at  once.  At  the 
same  time,  whoever  was  chosen  to  play  the  character 
must  have  intimate  knowledge  of  the  border.  I  met 
the  requirements  fully,  as  I  had  served  here  tm  years 
ago  as  a  mere  boy,  and  knew  the  country  fairly  well. 
Later  I  had  some  experience  in  rough  work  farther 
north.  The  Department  commander  selected  me  for 
the  job,  and — well,  I  didn't  refuse  the  assignment;  so 
here  I  am,  the  *  Frisco  Kid.' " 

Deborah  held  out  her  hand  impulsively. 

"  I'm  glad  you  told  me,"  she  said  in  all  frankness. 


<130) 


CHAPTER  XIII 

A  NEW  VIEWPOINT 

SHE  had  been  sleeping  for  nearly  two  hours,  with 
head  supported  on  a  saddle,  the  steep  wall  of  the 
canyon  on  one  side  of  her  and  the  valley  itself  shut 
completely  off  by  a  thick  growth  of  shrub.  Deborah 
had  not  supposed  it  possible  to  lose  consciousness  when 
she  first  consented  to  lie  down,  at  Kelleen's  urgent 
request.  She  had  not  realized  how  tired  she  was,  and,  in 
fact,  rested  there  some  time  in  this  nook  he  had  found, 
staring  with  wide-open  eyes  up  at  the  strip  of  blue  sky, 
her  mind  still  active.  There  was  almost  no  noise  to 
disturb  her,  only  the  occasional  sound  of  a  moving 
horse  grazing  not  far  away,  and,  by  lifting  her  head 
slightly,  she  knew  that  her  companion  had  also 
stretched  himself  out  on  the  grass,  across  a  narrow 
ravine,  and  lay  there  motionless.  The  knowledge  of 
who  this  man  really  was  had  brought  her  instant  relief, 
and  a  new  sense  of  safety  in  his  presence.  She  no  longer 
felt  any  personal  fear  of  him,  and  his  words  had  con- 
vinced her  that  the  day  promised  no  danger  from 
without.  He  had  even  scaled  the  cliff  once  more  to  gain 
another  view  across  the  desert  in  the  bright  sun-glare, 

(131) 


GIFT  OF  THE  DESERT 


and  his  confidence  in  their  safety  left  her  abundantly 
satisfied.  So  finally  her  heavy  eyes  closed,  and  she 
slept. 

Something  must  have  awakened  the  girl  suddenly, 
for  she  sat  bolt  upright,  with  eyes  wide  open  in  fright. 
Yet  nothing  about  her  appeared  wrong,  or  strange. 
Kelleen  had  disappeared,  but  beyond  this  no  change  of 
any  kind  was  apparent.  The  sun,  now  almost  directly 
overhead,  was  pouring  its  rays  to  the  very  bottom  of  the 
chasm,  leaving  a  narrow  ribbon  of  gold  through  the 
center,  and  one  of  the  horses  could  be  seen  grazing  in 
the  midst  of  it.  The  second  animal  had  vanished,  but 
in  all  probability  it  had  merely  strayed  farther  away 
beyond  the  range  of  her  direct  vision.  The  entire  scene 
was  so  calm  and  peaceful  that  Deborah's  heart  ceased 
its  first  violent  throbbing,  and  she  even  smiled  at  her 
earlier  fear,  and  arose  expectantly  to  her  feet. 

She  had  been  confused,  but  the  movement  brought 
back  full  consciousness.  The  memory  of  the  night 
returned  vividly,  but  more  like  a  dream  than  any  reality. 
The  course  of  events  appeared  so  unnatural,  so  fantas- 
tic, it  was  difficult  for  her  to  grasp  the  truth  —  that  she 
was  actually  a  fugitive,  a  wife  fleeing  from  her  husband, 
trusting  everything,  life,  reputation,  to  the  mercies  of  a 
stranger,  and  hiding  here  out  in  this  strange  desert 
excavation  waiting  only  for  the  darkness  of  night.    No 

( 132 ) 


A  NEW  VIEWPOINT 


imagination,  no  dream  of  fiction,  could  seem  so  unreal, 
and  she  hid  her  face  in  her  hands  while  she  struggled 
to  assimilate  the  truth.  But  when  it  finally  came,  it 
brought  no  deep  regret.  Fate  after  all  had  been  kind 
to  her ;  the  man  she  had  been  compelled  to  trust,  the  man 
whom  she  had  believed  an  outlaw,  a  ruffian  of  the 
border,  merely  befriending  her  as  a  passing  whim,  had 
proven  himself  a  soldier  and  a  gentleman.  With  this 
discovery  all  her  former  doubt,  her  previous  ques- 
tioning, had  vanished  into  a  faith  which  brought 
with  it  new  strength  and  courage.  Whatever  lay  be- 
fore could  be  faced  confidently  —  she  was  no  longer 
alone. 

But  what  had  become  of  Kelleen  ?  Through  the  tree 
branches  behind  which  she  had  been  concealed,  Deborah 
searched  the  full  length  of  the  chasm  within  reach  of 
her  vision,  but  discovered  no  trace  of  his  presence.  It 
was  all  completely  deserted,  and  primitive,  nowhere 
exhibiting  evidence  of  ever  before  having  known  human 
occupancy.  Yet  the  range  of  her  observation  was 
limited.  She  seemed  absolutely  surrounded,  shut  in  by 
the  precipitous  walls  rising  high  above  on  every  side. 
It  was  more  like  a  gigantic  well,  dug  by  some  monster 
shovel  in  the  desert  sands,  than  the  bed  of  a  stream,  she 
remembered  dimly  that  he  had  spoken  of  a  sharp  curve 
in  the  side  walls  there  to  the  right,  and  a  portion  he  had 

(133) 


GIFT  OF  THE  DESERT 


not  as  yet  explored.  No  doubt  he  had  gone  there  now, 
somewhere  beyond  the  bend,  and  out  of  sight,  endeavor- 
ing to  learn  its  mystery,  confident  of  her  safety ;  believing 
she  would  continue  asleep,  he  had  taken  advantage  of 
the  opportunity  to  learn  all  that  was  possible  of  their 
strange  hiding  place.  Probably  he  had  ridden  one  of 
the  horses,  and  was  even  then  just  beyond  that  jutting 
ridge  of  rock.  She  imagined  she  could  even  perceive 
the  sharp  curve  in  the  side  wall  into  which  he  must  have 
disappeared  down  the  concealed  canyon.  It  was  not 
likely  the  man  would  be  absent  long.  It  must  already 
be  noon  by  the  sun,  and,  actuated  by  a  desire  to  do 
something,  she  finally  began  to  arrange  a  meal  for  his 
return.  She  had  opened  the  bag  of  provisions,  when 
suddenly  her  eyes  caught  sight  of  something  moving  far 
below,  and  to  her  right,  objects  at  first  hard  to  dis- 
tinguish, and  then  quickly  discerned  as  two  horse- 
men, emerging  from  the  very  cleft  in  the  rocks  where 
she  had  decided  the  canyon  probably  ran.  They  came, 
steadily  on,  growing  more  distinct  each  minute,  yet  still 
too  far  away  for  recognition. 

She  crouched  lower  behind  her  screen,  and  waited 
breathlessly.  Two,  what  could  that  mean?  It  seemed 
highly  improbable  that  Kelleen  could  have  encountered 
a  friend  in  this  spot — a  man  in  whom  he  had  faith  — 
who  was  returning  with  him.     If  this  was,  as  he  so 

(134) 


A  NEW  VIEWPOINT 


evidently  believed,  a  hidden  lair  of  outlaws,  a  rendezvous 
for  border  crime,  it  was  hardly  possible  he  had  met  with 
any  comrade  here,  if — if  he  was  really  what  he  had 
claimed  to  be.  The  thought  of  that "  if  "  struck  her  like 
a  blow.  But  was  he  ?  was  he  ?  She  had  nothing  but  the 
man's  own  word  to  rely  upon;  no  proof,  no  evidence 
beyond  his  own  assertion,  and  —  and  everything  seem- 
ingly against  it.  The  truth  of  this  came  to  her  most 
forcibly,  her  eyes  strained  to  watch  every  movement  of 
those  approaching  horsemen.  She  could  perceive 
enough  already  to  be  certain  that  Kelleen  was  not  one 
of  the  group;  they  were  both  Mexicans,  or  at  least  so 
attired,  and  their  mounts  bore  Mexican  trappings. 
Little  as  the  girl  knew  of  the  frontier,  she  at 
once  realized  the  danger  of  being  discovered  by  such 
men. 

Yet  what  could  she  do  to  escape  observation?  Even 
if  they  were  approaching  with  no  intimation  whatever 
of  her  presence,  their  eyes  could  not  fail  to  detect  the 
horse  grazing  in  the  valley  below,  and  they  would  surely 
make  some  effort  to  discover  how  the  strange  animal 
chanced  to  be  there.  While  the  fellows  might  not  have 
encountered  Kelleen,  the  presence  of  a  strange  bronco 
in  that  unusual  place  must  certainly  arouse  suspicion. 
It  would  not  be  held  an  accident,  especially  as  any  close 
examination  of  the  animal  would  quickly  disclose  evi- 

(135) 


GIFT  OF  THE  DESERT 


dences  of  the  night's  hard  ride.  Deborah  was  conscious 
of  trembling  in  every  limb,  as  she  crouched  there,  behind 
the  screen  of  leaves,  instinctively  grasping  the  only 
weapon  in  her  possession.  Then  she  suddenly  recog- 
nized one  of  the  riders  as  Juan  Sanchez. 

They  had  followed  her  then,  and  were  seeking  her 
now.  There  could  be  no  possible  doubt  as  to  Sanchez' 
mission.  How  the  fellow  had  reached  there  so  quickly, 
and  why  it  even  had  been  suspected  she  had  sought  this 
remote  spot  of  refuge,  were  unsolved  questions,  yet  it 
was  highly  probable  that  searching  parties  had  been 
dispatched  in  all  directions,  and  the  Mexican  had  been 
the  one  whom  Fate  had  headed  that  way.  Anyhow  she 
could  not  speculate  as  to  how,  or  why.  Whether  by 
accident,  or  design,  the  two  were  here,  and  were  unques- 
tionably enemies  to  be  avoided.  Deborah  could  not 
even  guess  what  had  already  occurred  below,  yet  the 
two  riders  exhibited  no  outward  signs  of  encounter;  they 
were  approaching,  making  no  effort  at  concealment. 
In  some  way  they  must  have  failed  then  to  meet  Kelleen, 
yet  the  grazing  horse  could  not  escape  attention;  they 
would  search  for  the  missing  rider,  and  she  must  find 
hiding  place  somewhere  among  the  rocks. 

Her  eyes  traced  the  rugged  bluff  hopelessly;  to 
attempt  scaling  that  would  only  bring  her  into  full  view, 
yet  there  was  a  fringe  of  thick  bushes  below  into  which 

(136) 


A  NEW  VIEWPOINT 


she  might  plunge.  This  seemed  the  only  hiding  place 
available,  and,  before  seeking  concealment  there  herself , 
the  girl  had  sufficient  presence  of  mind  hastily  to  fling 
the  various  articles  scattered  about  into  the  oblivion  of 
the  thicket.  The  next  moment  she  crept  through  the 
thick  fringe  of  brush  into  the  shadow.  The  two  horse- 
men came  slowly,  cautiously,  up  the  slight  slope,  staring 
about  them  suspiciously,  yet  finding  nothing  at  the 
summit  but  a  bit  of  trampled  grass  to  tell  that  the  spot 
had  been  occupied  previously. 

Deborah,  secure  in  a  cleft  of  the  rock  behind  a  five- 
foot  screen  of  chaparral,  crouched  motionless,  with  ears 
strained  to  detect  the  slightest  sound.  The  first  words 
spoken  were  reassuring — the  fellows  were  not  seeking 
her,  possessed,  indeed,  no  suspicion  of  her  presence. 
She  was  unable  to  see,  but  could  hear  plainly,  and  there 
was  no  difficulty  in  recognizing  the  voice  of  Sanchez. 

"Whatever  do  you  suppose  has  become  of  them, 
Jose?"  he  asked  complainingly.  "They  were  to  have 
come  yesterday,  you  tell  us,  and  yet  they  are  not 
here." 

"But  someone  is,  seiior — see,  there  has  been  camp 
made." 

"  That  was  the  guard;  the  ranch  brand  is  on  the  pony 
grazing  yonder;  I  took  note  as  we  rode  by.  I  wonder 
where  in  hell  the  fellow  has  gone  ?    But  he  has  naught 

(137) 


GIFT  OF  THE  DESERT 


to  do  with  Casebeer's  outfit.  The  gulch  is  empty,  except 
for  the  lad  we  met  below." 

"And  what  does  he  do  in  here,  senor?  Who  was  it 
you  call  him?" 

Sanchez  laughed  mirthlessly. 

"Hiding  out,  Jose;  there  is  no  reason  to  fear  that 
guy.  Besides  he's  Meager's  friend;  he  was  at  the  ranch 
last  night,  and  how  the  devil  he  got  here  so  quick  bothers 
me.    You  don't  know  him?  " 

"  No,  senor." 

11  I'll  bet  you  know  of  him  just  the  same.  I  called 
him  'Frisco;'  he's  the4  Kid.'" 

"The  'Frisco  Kid?'  Sure,  I  hear  of  him.  They 
say  he  held  up  the  Los  Colos  stage." 

Sanchez  laughed. 

"  'Tis  not  all  they  say.  He  is  the  devil's  own,  if  half 
the  tales  be  true  —  a  smooth-spoken  boy  enough,  but  not 
the  sort  to  make  sport  of.  Meager  knows  him  —  aye !  " 
and  he  slapped  his  knee  roughly  at  the  happy  thought, 
"  and  that  is  why  the  lad  is  here,  no  doubt.  I  have  it 
now;  Bob  could  not  come  himself,  Jose,  so  he  sent  this 
fellow.    You  know  what  happened  last  night?  " 

"Happened?  where?" 

"At  the  ranch.  Why,  of  course,  you  don't ;  you  were 
on  herd,  and  only  joined  me  as  I  rode  out.  Why  Meager 
got  married  to  that  pretty  Americano  nurse.    Hell,  it 

(138) 


A  NEW  VIEWPOINT 


was  no  choice  of  hers  if  I  know  aught  of  a  woman's 
ways,  but  little  enough  Seiior  Bob  cares  for  that.  I've 
seen  him  do  the  same  trick  before.  That  fat  judge  came 
out  from  Nogales,  and  did  the  job,  and  'twas  scarce 
likely  Meager  would  desert  his  blushing  bride  to  come 
out  here  to  meet  Casebeer's  outfit.  So  he  sent  the  '  Kid.' 
But  why  the  hell  didn't  he  tell  me,  I  wonder?  " 

"Who  tell  you?  — the4  Kid?'" 

"  Either  one  of  'em ;  I  like  to  know  what  I'm  bein' 
stacked  up  against  on  a  job  like  this.  We've  played  safe 
enough  so  far,  but  some  day  a  government  man  is  goin' 
to  stumble  onto  this  hole,  and  there'll  sure  be 
trouble  a-plenty.  Casebeer's  lucky,  but  his  outfit  this 
trip  would  be  a  mighty  rich  haul  if  he  should  happen  to 
fall  down." 

"Guns?" 

"Ammunition,  and  booze  for  Villa;  some  combina- 
tion that.  It  is  to  go  over  the  border  tonight,  and  a  nice 
wad  of  money  comes  back.  That  will  be  the  '  Kid's ' 
job,  perhaps,  if  Meager  doesn't  show  up  by  dark:  we 
haven't  any  orders  beyond  here." 

"You  think  Seiior  Bob  maybe  would  send  him  to 
bring  back  the  money?  " 

"Sure;  it's  fifty-fifty  with  Casebeer,  and  ' Frisco'  is 
all  right.  He's  square  as  they  make  'em,  I've  always 
heard.     Raises  hell,  of  course,  now  an'  then,  but  he 

(139) 


GIFT  OF  THE  DESERT 


never  double-crossed  anybody.  He  ain't  that  kind,  an' 
Bob  knows  it;  they've  run  together  down  below.  I  got 
it  figured  out  that's  what  the  fellow  is  up  here  for  —  to 
help  out  on  this  deal.  Ain't  that  him  roundin'  that  bluff 
yonder?  Sure  it  is  —  ridin'  this  way.  I'm  goin'  to  ask 
him  straight  when  he  gets  here." 


(140) 


CHAPTER  XIV 

THE  HAND  FROM  THE  ROCK 

DEBORAH,  frightened  by  what  she  heard,  lifted 
herself  slightly  so  as  to  see  better  up  the  narrow 
valley.  The  approaching  horseman  was  in  plain  view, 
and,  even  at  that  distance,  the  girl  had  no  doubt  as  to 
his  identity.  The  straight,  slender  figure  in  the  saddle 
was  unmistakable  to  her  eyes,  and  the  wide  brim  of  his 
hat,  blown  upward  in  the  wind,  even  seemed  to  reveal 
the  features  of  his  face.  Her  very  heart  seemed  to 
cease  beating  as  she  knelt,  anxiously  watching  his 
approach,  the  horse  loping  steadily,  the  man  swaying 
gently  to  the  movement  of  the  animal.  Who,  indeed, 
was  he  —  this  Daniel  Kelleen?  this  "  Frisco  Kid?  "  Was 
he  what  she  had  begun  to  dream  through  the  long  night, 
listening  to  his  voice,  his  partial  explanation  —  a  real 
man  in  whom  she  could  trust  and  believe?  in  whose 
honor  she  could  confide? 

Or  was  he  what  these  ruffians  so  confidently  pro- 
claimed—  an  outlaw,  a  desperado  of  the  frontier,  an 
escaped  felon,  hiding  from  justice,  and  even  now 
engaged  in  the  committal  of  crime?  Surely  they  knew 
the  man  far  better  than  she,  and  the  very  fact  that  he 

(141) 


GIFT  OF  THE  DESERT 


was  the  acknowledged  friend  of  Bob  Meager;  that  he 
had  brought  her  here  into  this  secret  hiding  place  of 
outlaws,  knowing  what  must  be  encountered,  added  to 
her  doubt.  Surely  he  did  know;  these  fellows  took  it 
for  granted  that  he  was  present  on  the  same  criminal 
mission  as  themselves;  he  had  deliberately  left  her,  and 
rode  away  seeking  traces  of  Casebeer's  gang  in  the 
valley  —  seemingly  there  was  no  escape  from  the  one 
conclusion,  that  he  was  part  of  the  conspiracy.  He  had 
lied  to  her,  deceived  her,  told  her  a  fairy  tale,  laughing 
at  her  credulity,  while  coldly  going  forward  with  his 
own  plans.  In  his  hands,  his  control,  she  was  as  much 
the  victim  of  Meager  as  though  she  had  remained  back 
yonder  on  the  ranch.  Her  escape  was  but  a  dream ;  she 
was  still  a  helpless  prisoner. 

Deborah  grasped  all  this  almost  instantly,  unable  to 
perceive  any  possibility  of  escape  from  the  net  Her 
limbs  trembled,  yet  she  could  only  kneel  there  in  silence, 
watching  the  approach  of  the  rider.  There  was  nothing 
she  could  do,  no  place  where  she  could  go  —  the  high 
cliff  towered  above  unclimbable,  the  two  Mexicans  were 
below,  the  unsaddled  horse  beyond  any  possible  reach. 
A  wild  hope  thrilled  into  her  heart,  that  perhaps  this 
man  was  not  all  bad;  that  whatever  his  real  life  might 
be,  he  may  have  meant  to  be  square  with  her,  and  would 
yet  protect  her.     Surely  he  never  had  revealed  her 

(142) 


THE  HAND  FROM  THE  ROCK 


presence  to  these  others ;  perhaps  that  was  why  he  had 
not  returned  with  them,  hoping  she  might  see  the 
strangers,  and  hide.  He  had  no  chance  to  give  any- 
other  warning,  and  was  compelled  to  trust  her  wit 
This  was  a  hope,  a  wild,  reckless  hope,  which  yielded 
the  girl  courage.  She  would  stay  there,  and  wait,  until 
she  learned  the  truth.  His  first  words  sent  a  thrill 
through  her  heart — he  was  playing  a  part  for  her 
protection.  » 

He  reined  in  his  mount  sharply,  glancing  keenly 
about,  but  with  face  expressionless  as  his  eyes  finally 
encountered  the  two  awaiting  him. 

"Whose  horse  is  that?"  he  asked  inquiringly,  indi- 
cating the  grazing  animal. 

"I  know  not  that,  sefior;  'tis  Meager' s  brand." 

"  I  can  see  that  for  myself,  but  it  was  not  here  when 
I  came  by.  Was  anyone  besides  you  two  sent  in  here 
on  this  business?" 

"No,  seiior,"  there  was  a  touch  of  deference  in 
Sanchez'  voice  most  unusual,  Deborah  was  quick  to 
note  and  appreciate.  "Only  the  two  of  us.  Yet  it 
might  be,  for  we  knew  not  even  that  you  were  to  come 
also." 

"  That  was  an  after-thought,  and  why  I  rode  so  hard 
and  straight.    I  knew  about  you,  didn't  I  ?  " 

"Si,  sefior;  no  doubt." 

(143) 


GIFT  OF  THE  DESERT 


"But  about  this  other  fellow,  Juan?  You  saw  no 
one?" 

"Not  a  sign,  yet  there  has  been  camp  made  here; 
the  signs  are  plain.    'Tis  likely  to  be  the  guard." 

"  The  guard?  Meager's,  you  mean?  Does  he  keep 
a  guard  in  here?" 

"At  times,  sefior;  not  only  here,  but  in  each  direc- 
tion. He  is  wise,  sefior.  No  one  approaches  the  ranch 
but  first  he  have  warning.  'Tis  hard  to  catch  him 
asleep." 

"But  who  is  this  man?" 

Sanchez  shook  his  head,  sitting  on  the  ground,  smok- 
ing calmly. 

"  I  know  not  that,  sefior,"  he  admitted  indifferently. 
"One  of  the  herders.  It  can  make  no  difference;  he 
has  no  orders  but  to  bear  word  to  the  ranch  if  anything 
go  wrong.    If  he  wait  here  he  be  back  some  timer" 

Kelleen  swung  one  leg  carelessly  over  the  pommel 
of  his  saddle,  and  deliberately  rolled  and  lit  a  ciga- 
rette. His  face  expressed  no  emotion,  no  particular 
interest,  yet  Deborah  was  certain  the  keen,  searching 
eyes  had  swept  swiftly  over  her  covert,  and  up  the 
steep  front  of  the  overtowering  cliff.  He  suspected 
where  she  was  hidden,  and  was  endeavoring  to  protect 
her  from  discovery;  but  who  was  he  really  playing 
fair  with?  was  he  trying  to  deceive  both?  or  merely 

(144) 


THE  HAND  FROM  THE  ROCK 


playing  a  desperate  game  in  which  a  single  slip  would 
mean  disaster  ?  Was  he  outlaw,  or  honest  man  ?  Noth- 
ing in  the  situation,  or  in  the  conversation  thus  far 
overheard,  gave  her  certainty.  She  dare  not  move, 
scarcely  venture  to  breathe,  as  she  watched  the  three 
men  below  through  the  tangle  of  limbs  and  leaves. 
Kelleen  sat  motionless  across  his  saddle,  the  blue 
cigarette  smoke  circling  lazily  above  his  head,  evidently 
in  perfect  repose.  It  was  some  time  before  he  even 
spoke. 

"When  is  this  Casebeer  gang  expected ?"  he  ques- 
tioned finally. 

"Tonight,  senor;  it  was  to  be  earlier,  but  they  not 
come.  Now  not  until  tonight;  they  never  cross  the 
desert  by  day." 

"No,  I  reckon  not;  it  would  be  too  risky.  Any 
trouble  here  lately?" 

Sanchez  smiled,  showing  his  yellow  teeth,  and  waved 
a  hand  in  the  air. 

"Non,  non,  senor;  not  of  late  trouble.  It  was  all 
fixed.  The  Senor  Meager  he  know  who  best  to  see. 
They  come  —  yes;  last  week  a  man  come,  an'  question, 
but  he  ride  away,  an'  know  nothing.  A  troop  come, 
soldiers  from  the  fort,  an'  stay  two,  three  day.  I  talk 
with  officer;  he  drink  with  Bob;  then  they  go  back  to 
Nogales.    It  be  all  right  sure  then  —  see?    We  know 

(145) 


GIFT  OF  THE  DESERT 


they  not  be  back  soon  as  this  week.  So  we  send  word 
for  Casebeer." 

"Yes,  I  see;  but  it  is  not  so  sure  after  all.  Perhaps 
they  do  come  back." 

The  Mexican  shook  his  head  positively. 

"No,  senor,  we  know.  We  have  watch  always. 
Sefior  Meager  very  slick  bird  when  not  drunk.  You 
at  the  ranch  last  night?  " 

"  Certainly;  you  saw  me  there.    Why ? " 

11  You  not  there  alone,  senor.  The  judge  came  also 
from  Nogales.     You  know  the  judge?" 

"  Not  well,  but  sufficiently.    Is  he  your  man?  " 

"  He  brought  the  word.  'Twas  for  that  he  came,  not 
to  marry  Meager.  That  all  came  later,  by  what  you 
call  luck.  The  woman  was  a  fool,  senor,  to  defy  him 
— what  could  she  do  ?  " 

"What  did  she  do?" 

"  Pist !  I  mean  before;  after  it  was  nothing.  I  left 
while  they  still  drank,  senor,  but  Bob  will  have  had  what 
was  his  before  now.  There  is  no  vixen  he  can't  tame, 
for  she  is  not  the  first  of  them.     A  damn  pretty  girl, 


senor." 


Kelleen's  eyes  lifted  to  the  chaparral  above,  but  there 
was  no  change  in  his  face. 

"  Not  having  seen  her  I  am  unable  to  say,  Sanchez," 
he  answered  easily;  then  straightened  suddenly  in  the 

(146) 


THE  HAND  FROM  THE  ROCK 


saddle.  "  Where  does  this  northern  gang  come  from  ?  * 
11  Out  of  Calabasis,  sefior,  by  way  of  the  river." 
"Then  they  will  enter  down  below,  through  the 
gorge.  This  is  no  place  for  us.  Suppose  they  were  de- 
layed last  night,  and  took  a  chance  to  come  on  this 
morning  by  daylight  —  and  why  not  ?  They'd  be  under 
rock  cover  all  the  last  part  of  the  way.  It's  beyond 
here  that  they'd  have  the  open  desert  to  cross.  Let's 
ride  down  there,  and  wait." 

"  'Tis  no  hurry  sefior,"  Sanchez  protested  easily.  "  I 
would  see  the  herder  first." 

uFor  what?  "  a  new  ring  of  command  had  crept  un- 
consciously into  the  American's  voice.  uHe  has 
nothing  to  do  with  this.  Meager  gave  this  job  to  me, 
and  I'm  going  to  see  that  it  is  done  right.  Saddle  up, 
both  of  you ;  there  is  just  as  good  camping  ground  down 
below.    Come  on,  be  lively  about  it." 

There  was  a  jumble  of  Mexican  oaths,  but  something 
in  the  stern  eyes  of  the  "  Frisco  Kid,"  backed  no  doubt 
by  his  reputation,  compelled  obedience,  and  within  five 
minutes  the  three  were  trotting  soberly  down  the  valley. 
No  one  of  them  glanced  back,  and  Deborah  lifting  her 
head  higher  and  higher  to  peer  after  them  through  the 
brush  screen,  watched  until  they  disappeared  entirely 
about  the  sharp  protuberance  of  rock,  which  marked 
the  end  of  the  vista.    Kelleen  had  done  this  purposely; 

(147) 


GIFT  OF  THE  DESERT 


his  conversation  with  these  men  had  been  largely  carried 
on  for  her  benefit  and  guidance.  He  knew  where  she 
was;  that  she  could  easily  overhear.  Through  these 
means  he  endeavored  to  convey  to  her  unsuspected,  the 
complete  situation  in  which  he  was  involved,  and  then, 
this  accomplished,  he  had  inveigled  the  two  unsuspect- 
ing Mexicans  away,  thus  giving  her  opportunity  to 
escape  unseen.  For  some  reason  he  was  evidently 
avoiding  a  quarrel  with  the  fellows;  he  preferred  to 
deceive  them,  to  permit  their  going  on  with  their  con- 
templated crime,  in  which  they  were  convinced  he  was 
also  implicated.    But  why? 

Deborah  was  not  yet  wholly  convinced  of  the  man's 
innocence.  In  spite  of  his  evident  intention  of  shield- 
ing her  from  discovery,  his  intimate  association  with 
Bob  Meager,  the  understanding  between  him  and  San- 
chez, was  seemingly  proof  positive  that  he  was  an 
important  link  in  this  conspiracy.  The  man  was  en- 
deavoring to  make  her  think  otherwise,  but  the  doubt 
of  him  lingered  in  her  mind.  She  would  gladly  have 
fled  alone,  had  she  known  the  way  across  those  drear 
leagues  of  sand.  In  the  night  she  had  begun  to  trust, 
to  believe;  the  fellow's  very  recklessness  and  good 
humor  had  been  attractive;  her  vague  suspicion  seemed 
to  vanish  in  his  presence.  But  now  this  doubt  returned 
with  redoubled  vigor,  and,  for  the  moment,  she  actu- 

(148) 


THE  HAND  FROM  THE  ROCK 


ally  feared  him  as  much  as  the  man  she  had  tried  to 
kill.  More,  perhaps,  for  Meager  was  only  a  rough, 
passionate  brute,  while  the  very  nature  of  Kelleen 
rendered  him  a  far  more  dangerous  adversary.  If  he 
also  was  interested  in  her  —  and  the  girl  felt  that  he 
was  —  she  was  in  greater  danger  now  than  on  the 
ranch  from  which  she  had  fled.  She  shrank  from  the 
thought,  yet  it  haunted  her,  and  would  not  be  driven 
away.  Where  could  she  go?  What  could  she  do  to 
escape  the  man's  return?  Suicidal,  impossible  as  it 
appeared,  she  must  find  some  means  of  leaving  that 
fatal  valley  before  he  came  back  again  alone  seeking 
her.  No  horse  could  climb  those  rock  walls  down 
which  they  had  plunged  in  entering.  Yet  surely  there 
must  be  a  way,  a  bridle  path  leading  to  the  plain 
above  —  the  only  possible  exit  could  not  be  at  the  other 
end.  These  outlaws  would  never  dare  hide  here  in  a 
mere  cul-de-sac,  in  a  blind  trap,  having  no  hope  of 
escape  if  discovered.  At  least  she  could  seek  for  some 
secret  passage;  if  she  failed  it  would  be  better  than 
hopelessly  remaining  where  she  was. 

The  girl  drew  back  slowly,  with  eyes  searching  the 
open  valley,  intent  first  of  all  on  reaching  the  horse 
grazing  below.  The  only  possible  way  was  the  one 
she  had  taken  in  climbing  there,  along  a  ledge  of  stone 
close  in  against  the  rock  wall.    The  whole  face  of  the 

(149) 


GIFT  OF  THE  DESERT 


cliff  was  a  mass  of  trailing  vines,  clinging  in  some  mys- 
terious way  to  imperceptible  crevices  in  the  rock,  com- 
pletely veiling  its  front  far  up  above  her  reach.  It  was 
like  a  hanging,  green  tapestry,  with  here  and  there  a 
curious  red  flower  flaming  against  the  green  background 
of  leaves.  Deborah  pressed  these  back  to  gain  passage, 
and  had  advanced  a  dozen  steps,  or  more,  when  she 
stopped,  paralyzed  with  fear,  staring  into  two  terrifying 
eyes.  She  could  not  move  a  limb,  or  scream  in  that 
first  instant  of  horror.  Then  a  hand  reached  out, 
swept  the  concealing  vines  aside,  and  gripped  her. 


(150) 


CHAPTER  XV 

WITHIN  THE  TUNNEL 

DEBORAH  struggled  to  break  away,  emitting  one 
startled  cry  for  help,  before  the  fingers  of  her 
assailant  closed  viselike  on  her  throat.  She  was  in  the 
grasp  of  a  giant,  merciless  in  the  exercise  of  his  power, 
and  felt  herself  dragged  helplessly  through  the  tangle 
of  vines  into  blackness  beyond.  It  was  a  man;  she 
knew  that,  although  she  had  no  glimpse  of  the  face, 
and  made  desperate  effort  at  release,  given  unusual 
strength  by  terror;  but  the  grip  on  her  throat  tight- 
ened remorselessly,  and  her  power  of  resistance  waned, 
until  she  suddenly  lost  consciousness  and  all  sense  of 
her  surroundings.  Her  body  lay  limp  in  the  fellow's 
arms,  and,  with  a  growl  of  satisfaction,  he  bore  the 
motionless,  seemingly  lifeless  body,  back  through  the 
deepening  shadows,  and  cast  it  down  on  the  stone  floor. 
The  vines  closed  behind  them,  leaving  scarcely  a  ves- 
tige of  daylight  showing  through  the  thick  veil  of 
leaves.  The  man  stood  above  the  huddled  figure  of 
the  girl,  hardly  defined,  shapeless  in  the  gloom,  and 
laughed  silently.  He  bent  down  and  touched  her,  only 
to  straighten  up  once  more,  convinced  she  was  not 

(151) 


GIFT  OF  THE  DESERT 


dead.  He  seemed  doubtful,  hesitant,  uncertain  what 
to  do  next.  He  could  only  stare  at  that  helpless  form 
huddled  at  his  feet,  and  mutter  to  himself,  almost 
incoherently. 

"Not  dead  —  no;  live  maybe.  One  hour,  two  hour 
lie  so;  then  remember.  What  I  do  then?  Tonight, 
tomorrow  I  see.    Now  what  else  comes?" 

His  eyes,  apparently  accustomed  to  the  dimness,  en- 
abled him  to  move  about  as  though  in  a  well-lighted 
room.  A  rifle  leaned  against  the  back  wall,  and  he 
picked  it  up,  tested  its  mechanism,  and  moved  silently 
forward  to  the  entrance,  the  weapon  resting  in  the 
crook  of  his  arm. 

Cautiously  he  parted  the  leaves  and  looked  out, 
searching  the  full  length  of  the  deserted  valley.  Noth- 
ing of  consequence  met  his  gaze,  for  he  rested  back 
on  a  convenient  boulder,  and  continued  his  vigil,  as 
motionless  as  the  stone  on  which  he  sat.  He  must 
have  remained  in  that  position  for  an  hour,  occasion- 
ally shaking  his  head,  and  muttering  incoherently  to 
himself,  now  and  then  peering  back  into  the  darkness 
behind,  but  generally  with  keen  gaze  directed  to  the 
sun-lit  valley  without.  He  remained  vigilantly  on 
guard,  with  fingers  fumbling  the  lock  of  his  gun,  his 
figure  tense,  for  action.  Then,  suddenly,  and  without 
warning,  the  fellow  appeared  to  relax,  his  head  sink- 

(152) 


WITHIN  THE  TUNNEL 


ing  forward  on  the  arm  resting  above  the  gun  muzzle, 
and  he  sank  into  a  deep  sleep. 

Deborah  stirred  slightly  in  the  black  corner  where 
she  had  been  thrown,  and  slowly,  painfully  opened  her 
eyes.  At  first  she  failed  to  realize  what  had  occurred, 
and  stared  about,  seeing  nothing  through  the  dim  light. 
Her  body,  weakened  by  struggle,  seemed  helplessly 
inert,  while  at  first  her  mind  failed  to  function.  No 
flash  of  memory  recurred  to  aid  her.  Full  conscious- 
ness came  slowly,  reawakening  first  to  the  bruised  body, 
and  the  throat  lacerated  by  those  cruel  hands.  She 
could  scarcely  swallow,  or  move  her  limbs  without  pain. 
Then,  her  eyes  accustoming  themselves  to  the  pervad- 
ing gloom,  the  girl  began  dimly  to  perceive  objects 
about  her,  and  thus  grasp  something  of  the  situation. 
Little  by  little  the  details  came  back  —  the  rocky  plat- 
form without;  the  departure  of  the  three  men  down 
the  valley;  her  determination  to  escape  before  Kelleen 
could  return;  the  screen  of  clinging  vines  concealing 
the  face  of  the  precipice;  the  mad  glow  of  those  men- 
acing eyes  through  the  tangle  of  leaves;  that  out- 
stretched, hairy  arm,  beastlike  in  its  appearance;  the 
clutch  on  her  throat;  the  wild,  hopeless  struggle,  ending 
so  quickly  in  darkness.  She  could  scarcely  restrain  a 
scream  of  terror,  yet  the  very  sense  of  her  situation 
held  her  silent,  her  whole  body  trembling  violently. 

(153) 


GIFT  OF  THE  DESERT 


Where  was  she  ?  Where  had  her  assailant  gone  ?  Was 
the  thing  man,  or  beast?  The  questions  were  unan- 
swerable; she  could  be  assured  of  but  one  thing — she 
was  still  alive. 

Slowly,  silently  the  girl  succeeded  in  lifting  herself 
partially  from  off  the  hard  rock  on  which  she  lay,  using 
the  rough  outcroppings  of  the  wall  as  support  to  the 
effort.  Her  bruised  limbs  ached,  and  her  head  throbbed 
with  agony,  as  she  changed  her  posture  ever  so  slightly, 
yet  the  movement  served  to  clear  her  mind,  and  bring 
back  a  measure  of  courage.  She  was  not  only  alive 
still,  but  she  could  think,  act,  and  perceive  now  some- 
thing of  her  surroundings.  She  could  not  make  out 
a  great  deal,  however,  as  the  only  light  was  that  which 
stole  in  through  the  intricacies  of  those  shadowing 
leaves  concealing  the  opening.  These  were  so  thick 
as  to  be  almost  impenetrable,  a  vagrant  ray  here  and 
there  alone  visible.  But  these  were  sufficient  dimly  to 
reveal  outlines,  enabling  her  to  guess.  She  was  either 
in  a  natural  cave,  or  a  tunnel  excavated  directly  into 
the  face  of  the  cliff.  The  roughness  of  the  side  wall, 
which  she  could  touch,  and  the  apparent  lowness  of 
the  roof  above,  led  her  to  believe  that  this  hole  had 
either  been  dug  entirely  by  men,  or  else  decidedly  en- 
larged from  its  original  dimensions.  She  almost  felt 
assured  the  marks  of  tools  could  actually  be  distin 

(154) 


I 


WITHIN  THE  TUNNEL 


guished  by  touch  of  the  fingers  along  the  surface.  But 
for  what  purpose  had  it  been  done?  who  were  the  men 
engaged  on  such  a  work  in  this  hidden,  barren  coun- 
try? were  they  still  there?  and  what  might  be  their 
object — concealment?  or  a  search  after  treasure? 

This  was  a  land  of  crime,  of  outlawed  men,  of  des- 
perate chances,  and  war  against  fate.  She  knew  little 
of  its  hidden  mysteries,  only  that  nothing  was  too 
strange  to  occur  in  this  vast  desolation  of  the  border. 
Here  men  lived  continually  in  open  defiance  of  the  law, 
and  counted  murder  as  but  part  of  the  day's  work. 
It  was  far  more  likely  that  this  hole,  chiseled  out  of 
the  cliff,  was  the  hidden  rendezvous  of  some  gang  of 
criminals,  than  the  honest  effort  of  gold  seekers  to 
wrest  treasure  from  the  heart  of  the  barren  hill. 
This  conception  also  accorded  more  completely  with 
the  mysterious  attack  on  her,  the  rudeness  with  which 
she  had  been  assaulted,  the  leaving  her  lying  there  half 
'dead.  Surely  no  miner  would  be  guilty  of  such  an 
act  of  brutality;  only  intense  fear  of  discovery,  by 
someone  half  crazed  by  terror,  could  account  for  such 
violent  action.  She  must  be  in  the  hands  of  criminals, 
outlaws,  willing  to  commit  any  atrocity  rather  than 
risk  possible  betrayal.  Their  action  had  been  dictated 
wholly  by  fear  of  discovery,  and  was  proof  positive 
they  would  hesitate  at  no  crime  to  safeguard  themselves* 

(155) 


GIFT  OF  THE  DESERT 


Nor  was  there  any  help,  outside  herself,  of  escape. 
She  had,  perhaps,  been  left  for  dead;  certainly  be- 
lieved so  severely  injured  as  to  be  safe  for  the  present. 
Although  she  could  perceive  no  guard,  yet,  it  was  highly 
probable  that  any  movement  on  her  part  would  be 
observed  instantly.  She  must  remain  silent,  cautious. 
Her  thought  swept  back  to  Kelleen,  and  the  memory 
of  the  man  was  no  longer  wholly  fear  of  his  presence. 
In  spite  of  her  doubts,  her  distrust,  the  recollection  of 
their  night's  ride  together  recurred  now  as  almost  a 
pleasant  remembrance.  Criminal,  outlaw,  he  might 
be,  but  he  was  no  brute,  no  beast  of  the  jungle;  rather 
he  had  shown  himself  a  man,  even  a  gentleman.  Yet 
what  help  could  she  expect  from  him  ?  If  he  was  loyal, 
and  worthy,  how  could  he  be  of  any  aid? 

Beyond  all  doubt  the  man  would  return  in  search  of 
her.  He  had  shrewdly  guessed  where  she  lay  in  con- 
cealment, and  had  led  those  others  away  for  no  other 
purpose  but  to  leave  her  there  securely  hidden.  As 
soon  as  he  could  rid  himself  from  their  observation 
he  would  surely  be  back  once  more.  But  even  if  he 
came  had  she  left  any  trail  he  could  follow?  Plains- 
man as  he  undoubtedly  was,  how  could  he  discover 
this  hidden  place  in  which  she  now  found  herself  pris- 
oner? She  had  gone;  that  was  all,  disappeared,  van- 
ished, leaving  no  mark  of  guidance  behind.    Interested 

(156) 


WITHIN  THE  TUNNEL 


as  he  might  be,  he  could  never  solve  the  riddle,  except 
by  pure  accident.  Her  passage  back  from  the  edge 
of  the  covert  had  been  made  over  smooth  rock,  on 
which  her  feet  could  have  left  no  slightest  trace.  If 
she  had  flown  away  into  the  air  the  final  mystery  of 
her  disappearance  could  not  have  been  greater.  Sup- 
pose he  even  approached  the  front  of  the  precipice, 
or  stumbled  blindly  into  the  mouth  of  the  tunnel  behind 
the  canopy  of  vines — what  then?  She  could  conceive 
but  one  inevitable  result — his  death. 

She  was  surprised,  shocked  at  how  that  new  thought 
sickened  and  disheartened  her.  The  very  picture  of 
the  scene  rising  before  her  imagination  left  the  girl 
faint  and  trembling  with  apprehension.  She  doubted 
him,  had  fled  to  escape  him;  shrank  even  now  from 
being  again  alone  in  his  power;  yet  some  memory  of 
that  night,  through  which  they  had  ridden  together, 
could  not  be  destroyed.  In  some  way  his  personality 
had  touched  her  strongly,  and  the  tie  refused  to  snap. 
Yet  death  certainly  stood  grimly  between  them  now. 
If  this  guardian  of  the  hidden  tunnel  could  treat  her 
as  he  had  —  actuated  by  terror,  or  whatever  cause  had 
led  to  his  action  —  he  would  surely  prove  no  more 
merciful  to  him.  If  this  man  could  assault,  and  hold 
her  prisoner,  he  would  never  hesitate  at  murder  to 
prevent  discovery.     He  would  be  on  watch,  would 

(157) 


GIFT  OF  THE  DESERT 


mark  Kelleen's  approach,  his  every  footstep.  Skulk- 
ing behind  that  screen  of  leaves,  unseen,  unsuspected, 
he  could  kill  safely,  and  in  that  wild  land  the  report 
of  the  death  shot  would  bring  no  danger.  And  surely 
he  was  on  watch;  he  must  know  she  never  had  come 
into  the  sunken  valley  alone. 

Deborah's  searching  eyes,  now  able  to  distinguish 
objects  with  some  clearness,  scanned  the  rock  walls  to 
the  obscured  entrance.  At  first  she  could  not  be  sure, 
but  finally  the  vague  outlines  of  the  man  seated  on  the 
rock  became  visible.  He  was  huddled  forward  in  such 
grotesque  posture  as  scarcely  to  appear  human,  but 
gradually  the  girl  realized  what  the  uncouth  shape  must 
be,  could  even  detect  the  long,  scraggly  beard,  the  great 
breadth  of  shoulders,  and  the  rifle,  on  which  he  leaned. 
With  this  discovery  came  the  instant  assurance  also 
that  the  fellow  slept  soundly.  But  was  he  there  alone  ? 
She  lifted  herself  slowly,  cautiously,  to  her  knees, 
eagerly  searching  the  surrounding  darkness,  but  could 
see  no  sign  of  any  other  presence.  A  thrill  of  hope 
brought  courage,  and  new  strength  to  her  limbs.  Might 
it  not  be  possible  for  her  to  steal  forward  silently,  and 
then,  with  a  sudden  spring,  clear  the  obstruction  of 
vines,  and  gain  the  free  day  without,  before  the  slum- 
bering guard  could  even  comprehend  what  had  oc- 
curred?    The  horse  was  not  a  hundred  yards  away, 

(158) 


WITHIN  THE  TUNNEL 


and,  even  if  she  had  to  leap  boldly  from  off  the  shelf 
of  rock,  she  would  willingly  dare  all  for  a  chance  at 
escape.  Yet  she  had  not  advanced  three  steps  until 
she  realized  the  impossibility  of  the  effort  —  the  sleep- 
ing body  utterly  blocked  the  passage. 

She  could  perceive  the  fellow  now  with  some  dis- 
tinctness, a  giant  of  a  man,  with  long,  apelike  arms,  bare 
and  hairy,  an  oddly  formed  head,  almost  pear-shaped, 
long  hair  shading  the  face,  and  a  black  beard  sweeping 
to  his  knees.  There  was  no  suggestion  of  age,  or  weak- 
ness, in  his  appearance,  and  she  drew  back,  cowering 
at  remembrance  of  the  mad  grip  of  those  hands  about 
her  throat;  she  dare  not  test  such  strength  again. 
Slowly,  silently,  without  actually  knowing  why,  the  girl 
drew  back  into  the  deeper  darkness  behind  her,  guiding 
herself  with  one  hand  against  the  rough  wall.  Into 
her  mind  had  come  the  faint  hope  of  another  egress 
somewhere,  the  very  purity  of  the  air  suggesting  such 
a  possibility,  she  even  imagining  she  felt  a  draught 
upon  her  cheek.  Yet  there  was  no  glimmer  of  light. 
Once  her  groping  foot  struck  against  fragments  of 
rock  left  lying  where  they  fell.  She  bent  down  better  to 
assure  herself  of  the  obstruction,  and  her  exploring 
fingers  touched  a  pick.  It  was  indeed  a  mine,  then; 
this  secret  excavation  had  been  man's  work;  Nature 
may  have  pointed  the  way,  but  this  tunnel  itself  orig- 

(159) 


GIFT  OF  THE  DESERT 


inated  through  lust  of  wealth.  The  guard,  the  intense 
fear  of  discovery,  the  hatred  of  intruders,  arose  from 
this  same  cause.  Her  captors  were  not  outlaws,  but 
men  crazed  by  fear  of  losing  what  they  had  uncovered 
in  these  rocky  hills.  Yet  this  knowledge  rendered  her 
situation  no  whit  less  dangerous. 

Deborah  crept  forward  over  the  pile  of  debris,  dis- 
covering that  this  fall  of  stone  did  not  denote  the 
ending  of  the  passage.  She  was  in  intense  darkness, 
no  longer  able  to  distinguish  even  the  distant  light  of 
the  entrance,  or  any  outline  of  that  slumbering  figure 
perched  motionless  on  the  stone.  Suddenly  her  groping 
hands  revealed  a  sharp  curvature  in  the  tunnel,  and 
she  worked  her  way  about  the  corner  with  utmost  cau- 
tion. Then  she  stopped,  rooted  to  the  spot,  her  heart 
almost  ceasing  to  beat.  Far  above,  up  what  appeared 
to  be  a  sharply  inclined  chute  through  the  solid  rock, 
came  streaming  down  a  single  ray  of  daylight,  its  faint 
reflection  resting  directly  upon  the  upturned  face  of 
a  dead  man,  stretched  on  the  tunnel  floor. 


(160) 


CHAPTER  XVI 

THE    PASSAGE   OUT 

DEBORAH,  startled,  swayed  back  against  the  wall 
for  support,  staring  down  into  that  white,  up- 
turned face,  clearly  revealed  within  the  little  pool  of 
light.  She  had  witnessed  death  so  often  in  most  hideous 
form  as  to  have  no  doubt  the  man  was  beyond  help; 
nor  was  it  any  personal  fear  of  the  corpse,  even  in 
that  gloomy  spot,  which  held  her  rigid.  For  the  instant 
she  seemed  to  have  lost  all  power  of  volition,  her  very 
brain  numbed  by  this  unexpected  encounter.  It  was 
the  face  of  a  young  man,  his  dark,  wide-open  eyes  star- 
ing blindly  up  into  vacancy,  his  brown  hair,  cut  short, 
almost  good-looking  even  in  death,  with  cheeks  freshly 
shaven.  This  last  was  what  aroused  the  girl,  brought 
her  back  quickly  to  life  and  action.  He  had  the  appear- 
ance of  having  shaved  that  very  morning;  the  stubble 
of  his  beard  was  not  even  visible.  Then  she  noted 
two  other  facts  —  his  revolver  was  in  the  holster  at 
his  waist,  and  the  hand,  held  upright  against  the  side 
wall,  grasped  a  folded  paper.  He  had  just  been  killed, 
not  more  than  two  hours  before  surely,  and  in  no  duel 
—  perhaps  he  had  fallen  to  where  he  lay  while  climbing 

(161) 


GIFT  OF  THE  DESERT 


that  narrow  passage  above.  But  the  wound?  There 
was  none  visible  —  not  even  a  bruise  on  the  face.  As 
a  woman,  Deborah  shrank  from  touching  the  body, 
but  her  training  as  a  nurse  instantly  conquered.  She 
must  learn  the  truth,  disagreeable  as  the  task  might 
be.  On  her  knees,  exerting  all  her  strength,  she  par- 
tially turned  the  body  —  the  man  had  been  shot  in  the 
back. 

She  seemed  to  comprehend  it  all  in  a  flash,  visioning 
the  scene  as  she  rose  quickly  to  her  feet.  He  must 
have  done  the  deed — that  older  man  with  the  beard — 
shooting  treacherously  from  behind.  This  younger 
man  had  been  given  no  chance,  probably  did  not  even 
suspect  his  danger,  before  being  struck  down.  His 
hand  was  not  even  on  his  gun  in  any  effort  at  defense ; 
he  probably  never  knew.  Perhaps  he  was  climbing  the 
passage  up  there,  seeking  for  some  way  of  escape  from 
the  tunnel,  or  else  merely  exploring  the  narrow  hole 
leading  to  the  bar  of  light  above.  He  could  scarcely 
have  felt  suspicion  of  any  other  presence,  or  he  never 
would  have  been  taken  so  completely  by  surprise.  The 
other  had  stolen  stealthily  through  those  black  shadows 
behind,  and  fired  at  the  figure  above  outlined  plainly 
against  that  opening.  It  had  been  deliberate  murder. 
But  the  purpose  was  not  so  clear.  To  all  appearances 
the  assassin  had  never  even  approached  his  victim  after 

(162) 


THE  PASSAGE  OUT 


he  fell.  Confident  of  the  deadly  accuracy  of  his  aim* 
he  had  left  the  inert  body  lying  where  it  struck,  un- 
touched, not  even  the  dead  man's  gun  being  removed 
from  its  holster,  or  the  folded  bit  of  paper  released 
from  those  gripping  fingers. 

The  unspeakable,  treacherous  horror  of  the  act  ap- 
palled Deborah.  There  must  be  some  reason  behind  it 
all.  It  was  too  cold,  cruel,  deliberative,  not  to  have 
definite  cause.  Some  quarrel,  some  jealousy,  or  long 
hatred  must  have  led  up  to  this  tragic  end  —  or,  could 
it  be  the  deed  of  insanity?  No  speculation  now  could 
solve  the  mystery,  but  the  murderer  still  lived;  he  was 
back  yonder  in  the  darkness  she  had  just  left.  He 
would  no  more  spare  her  than  he  had  shown  mercy  to 
this  other  victim.  If  he  still  slept  she  must  take  advan- 
tage of  the  moment  for  escape  —  the  one  chance  up 
that  long  passage  toward  the  gleam  of  light  at  the  top. 
She  stepped  across  the  dead  body,  grasping  her  skirts 
tightly  in  one  hand;  then  hesitated  for  an  instant, 
obsessed  by  a  new  thought.  Perhaps  that  paper  might 
explain  it  all,  might  prove  the  very  key  to  all  this  mys- 
tery. She  bent,  and  wrested  it  from  out  the  stiffened 
fingers,  hastily  endeavoring  to  learn  what  it  contained. 
It  was  a  thick,  tough  sheet,  the  folds  showing  yellow 
and  dirty  as  though  it  had  been  carried  a  long  while, 
and  there  was  writing  inside,  in  fine  penmanship,  but 

(163) 


GIFT  OF  THE  DESERT 


so  indistinct  her  eyes  were  unable  to  decipher  a  single 
word  in  that  dim  light.  She  thrust  it  into  the  bosom 
of  her  blouse,  her  eyes  anxiously  searching  the  only 
possible  way  out. 

It  scarcely  promised  even  that,  as  revealed  by  that 
single  ray  barely  illuminating  the  passage.  Appar- 
ently an  irregularly  sized  hole,  worn  between  layers 
of  solid  rock  by  the  action  of  water,  it  led  upward  at 
a  sharp  angle,  and,  while  wide  enough  at  the  lower 
extremity  to  permit  the  entrance  of  a  full-grown  man, 
seemed  to  contract  at  the  upper  opening  so  as  to  make 
it  very  doubtful  if  an  ordinary  body  could  squeeze 
through  into  the  open  air  beyond.  The  hole  was  not 
smooth,  but  knobby  with  projections  of  stone,  to  which 
hand  and  foot  could  cling,  thus  making  it  possible  for 
one  to  clamber  up  safely,  but  the  diameter  at  the  top 
could  only  be  guessed  at  from  that  distance.  Yet 
Deborah  felt  that  she  had  no  choice,  but  to  accept  this 
single  chance  of  deliverance.  She  could  not  remain 
there  with  the  dead  man,  nor  retrace  her  steps  back- 
ward to  where  the  murderer  remained  asleep  on  guard. 
Her  belt  was  still  about  her  waist,  but  its  holster  was 
empty;  the  revolver  had  either  been  removed  while 
she  was  unconscious,  or  had  fallen  out  during  her  fierce 
struggle  at  the  entrance  of  the  mine.  Before  beginning 
to  climb,  she  drew  the  dead  man's  gun  from  his  scab- 

(164) 


THE  PASSAGE  OUT 


bard,  and  stuck  it  into  her  own.  As  she  did  so  the 
light  from  above  glimmered  on  a  pearl-studded  handle, 
and  a  barrel  of  blue  steel. 

At  first  the  climbing  was  not  difficult,  the  slope  grad- 
ual with  the  walls  sufficiently  wide  apart  to  afford 
comparatively  easy  passage.  Outcroppings  of  rock 
kept  her  from  slipping  back,  even  furnished  a  sort  of 
ladder  up  which  she  climbed.  Then  the  passage  nar- 
rowed, with  a  far  sharper  incline,  the  center  becoming 
almost  as  smooth  as  glass.  Deborah  was  obliged  to 
find  support  against  the  irregularity  of  the  sides,  draw- 
ing herself  forward  by  her  hands,  with  feet  groping 
in  the  darkness  below  for  any  projection  against  which 
they  could  rest.  Yet  she  won  her  way  upward,  almost 
inch  by  inch,  soon  creeping  over  a  narrow  shelf,  able, 
finally,  to  sit  upright  within  a  shallow  niche  at  one 
side,  where  the  stone  had  been  hollowed  out  for  a  few 
inches.  She  was  breathless  from  the  hard  climb,  her 
heart  beating  rapidly.  Hope  almost  deserted  her  as 
she  traced  the  contracted  passage  leading  from  there 
to  the  top,  a  mere  round  funnel,  through  which  she 
must  actually  force  her  body.  The  small,  contracted 
opening  above  appeared  impossible. 

The  girl  gazed  over  into  the  darkness  below.  She 
could  see  nothing,  hear  nothing,  yet  her  mind  pictured 
again  the  dead  face  of  that  boy  staring  up  at  her  — 

(165) 


GIFT  OF  THE  DESERT 


she  could  not  go  back  to  that !  Nor  to  that  other,  living 
horror,  beyond !  The  fellow  might  be  awake  by  now, 
seeking  her,  trailing  her  back  through  the  tunnel,  know- 
ing his  crime  had  been  discovered,  ready  for  any  bru- 
tality rather  than  permit  of  her  escape.  He  would 
seek  her  here  first  of  all;  however  desperate  the  ven- 
ture, she  must  go  on ;  better  to  die  there,  caught  help- 
lessly in  that  rocky  hole,  than  ever  to  fall  again  into 
the  power  of  that  beast.  She  listened  intently,  hearing 
nothing;  then  lifted  her  hands  to  feel  upward.  The 
sudden  flap  of  a  wing  almost  struck  her  face,  and  a 
bat  scurried  up  the  passage ;  she  could  see  it  shadowed 
against  the  gleam  of  daylight  above.  The  girl  laughed 
nervously,  but  did  not  even  shrink  back.  She  lifted  one 
foot,  seeking  a  fragment  of  rock  to  rest  upon.  Then 
a  flare  of  red  lit  the  inferno,  a  dull,  muffled  report 
echoed  along  the  imprisoning  walls,  and  a  bullet  brushed 
her  hair,  flattening  itself  on  the  rock  beyond. 

She  shrank  back  into  the  little  niche,  scarcely  certain 
of  her  escape,  and  rested  there  on  her  knees,  not  ven- 
turing to  move.  The  shot  had  come  from  below;  of 
that  there  could  be  no  doubt,  but  there  was  no  other 
report,  no  movement  to  reveal  any  presence.  Deborah 
had  no  question  as  to  who  had  fired — it  must  be  the 
man  she  had  fled  from  in  the  outer  cave.  He  must 
have    seen  her  outlined  against  that    round   opening 

(166) 


THE  PASSAGE  OUT 


above.  It  was  a  miracle  she  had  escaped;  but  to  have 
seen  her  the  fellow  must  have  stood  directly  beneath, 
beside  the  body  of  the  dead  man.  Perhaps  he  would 
be  there  still,  peering  up  to  learn  the  result  of  his  shot, 
wondering  where  she  had  disappeared  so  quickly.  Her 
pulse  had  ceased  to  throb  so  rapidly,  and  she  felt  a 
strange  coolness  of  action.  She  was  safe  enough  where 
she  was,  behind  that  barrier  of  rock,  and  she  drew  the 
pearl-handled  revolver  out  of  its  holster,  and  listened 
eagerly  for  any  sound  of  guidance  from  below.  If 
he  made  any  effort  to  climb  up,  she  meant  to  shoot  to 
kill. 

She  dare  not  venture  to  advance  her  face  around  the 
rock  edge,  for  fear  the  movement  might  bring  her  into 
view  against  that  vista  of  light.  She  knelt  thus,  minute 
after  minute,  ready,  but  hearing  nothing  to  guide  her. 
The  fellow  was  evidently  waiting  and  watching  just  as 
she  was,  disconcerted  by  her  strange  disappearance. 
No  doubt  he  half  believed  his  bullet  had  found  its  mark, 
that  she  had  fallen,  either  wounded,  or  dead,  into  some 
crevice,  but  was  afraid  as  yet  to  venture  up  that  nar- 
row tunnel.  Yet  surely  the  man  would  be  crouched 
where  he  could  perceive  any  movement  above  him. 
She  could  not  remain  there  indefinitely  waiting  for  him 
to  gain  courage  to  attempt  the  ascent.  Her  hand,  with 
the  weapon  in  it,  reached  noiselessly  out  beyond  the 

(167) 


GIFT  OF  THE  DESERT 


edge  of  the  rock,  and  pointed  downward.     A  stone 
rattled  below,  and  her  finger  pulled  the  trigger. 

The  muffled  report  echoed  back  from  the  rocks,  the 
red  flash  of  the  discharge  faded  into  darkness,  and  the 
pungent  smoke  blew  back  into  her  face ;  but  there  was 
nothing  else.  No  cry,  no  crunch  of  a  falling  body,  no 
thud  of  lead.  She  listened  helplessly,  half  crazed,  to 
empty  every  load  from  her  poised  weapon  into  that 
silence  below.  What  could  it  all  mean?  What  had 
happened  behind  that  black  veil?  No  sound  told,  and 
yet  she  dare  not  move,  might  not  venture  to  expose 
herself  against  that  patch  of  blue  sky  above.  An  hour 
passed,  an  hour  of  dreadful  watching,  of  tense  expecta- 
tion. It  seemed  to  her  the  blue  light  streaming  through 
that  opening  was  already  losing  its  power,  as  though 
the  sun  was  going  down.  If  she  would  escape  she 
must  go  while  she  could  yet  see  the  way.  Desperate 
as  the  chance  was,  it  must  be  accepted.  Never  before 
had  she  been  so  overmastered  by  physical  fear,  yet  her 
will  conquered,  and  she  ventured  out  upon  the  open 
shelf  of  rock,  and  began  to  clamber  slowly  up  through 
the  shaft  of  light.  She  did  not  look  down,  or  permit 
herself  to  think  of  the  possible  danger  lurking  below. 
With  lips  closely  pressed  together,  and  heart  beating 
rapidly,  she  drew  herself  up,  inch  by  inch,  bracing  her 
body  against  the  side  walls  as  though  in  a  chimney, 

(168) 


THE  PASSAGE  OUT 


making  use  of  every  projection  as  a  support  to  either 
hand  or  foot,  and  thus  steadily  approaching  the  open- 
ing overhead.  It  was  a  more  difficult  passage  even 
than  she  had  supposed,  almost  choked  in  places  by 
debris.  Twice  she  had  to  stop,  clinging  desperately 
for  support,  and  clear  away  fragments  of  rock  before 
she  could  creep  past,  the  loosened  pebbles  rolling  noisily 
down  the  steep  slope.  Yet  her  courage  had  returned; 
there  had  been  no  attack  from  beneath,  no  evidence  of 
life. 

Deborah  reached  the  end  of  her  climb  breathless, 
her  limbs  aching  from  exertion,  her  heart  sinking  with 
dismay.  It  never  could  be  accomplished,  the  passage 
of  her  body  through  that  narrow  opening  to  the  world 
without.  How  sweet  the  fresh  air  felt;  how  beautiful 
the  blue  arch  of  sky,  yet  it  was  hopeless  of  attainment. 
The  very  madness  of  the  thought  proved  her  salvation. 
Crazed  for  the  moment,  she  began  to  dig  fiercely  with 
her  fingers  at  the  obstruction,  tearing  at  a  projecting 
point  of  rock,  which  suddenly  yielded  to  the  furious 
attack,  a  stream  of  loosened  sand  pouring  after.  Little 
by  little,  madly  tearing  at  the  sides  of  the  orifice,  she 
managed  to  wear  away  every  fragment  back  to  the  solid 
rim  of  rock.  Even  then  the  passage  outward  of  her 
body  appeared  almost  impossible.  She  unbelted  the 
revolver,  and  flung  it  through  the  opening;  then  drew 

(169) 


GIFT  OF  THE  DESERT 


herself  upward,  fearful  every  instant  of  being  irre- 
trievably caught,  yet  finding  purchase  below  for  her  feet 
sufficient  to  thrust  her  slender  body  steadily  forward. 
At  last,  her  shoulders  emerged  into  the  outer  day,  and 
she  was  enabled  to  drag  the  rest  of  her  body  over  the 
rim  of  rock.  Utterly  exhausted,  Deborah  lay  on  the 
sand,  gasping  for  breath,  conscious  only  that  she  had 
found  refuge  in  a  shallow  ravine.  She  lay  there  out- 
stretched in  the  shadow  of  a  steep  bank,  without  strength 
even  to  lift  her  head. 


(170) 


CHAPTER  XVII 

TWO   OF   A   KIND 

DEBORAH  felt  that  she  never  would  regain  power 
to  rise,  yet  this  total  exhaustion  passed  away,  as 
she  began  to  breathe  more  easily,  and  finally  she  sat 
upon  the  sand,  gazing  about  at  her  strange  surround- 
ings, eager  to  discover  what  she  could  attempt  next 
The  desperation  of  her  plight  was  clear.  She  had 
escaped  from  that  hell  underground,  yet  was  but  little 
better  off  than  before.  She  was  upon  the  edge  of  the 
desert  stretching  outward  toward  the  Meager  ranch. 
It  would  be  impossible  to  cross  this  on  foot,  with  neither 
food  nor  water  to  sustain  her;  nor  could  she  for  a 
moment  contemplate  seeking  refuge  there,  even  if  it 
were  possible.  Her  only  hope  was  to  circle  that  hidden 
chasm,  and  then  endeavor  to  find  her  way  north  until 
she  reached  some  human  habitation.  The  hope  of 
accomplishing  this  was  the  merest  mirage;  the  attempt 
probably  meant  death.  She  knew  nothing  of  the  coun- 
try in  that  direction,  how  far  the  desert  stretched,  or 
the  dim  trails  leading  through  its  desolation.  She  had 
no  horse,  no  food,  yet  somehow,  in  the  exhilaration 
of  that  first  moment  of  release,  she  could  not  wholly 

c  vn  \ 


GIFT  OF  THE  DESERT 


despair.  God  had  been  good;  she  would  go  on  cour- 
ageously, and  trust  Him. 

She  arose  to  her  knees,  and  looked  about.  It  was 
a  lonely,  contracted  scene,  amid  which  she  was  con- 
cealed. Some  rift  in  the  rocks  led  down  to  that  opening 
through  which  she  had  just  crept.  Perhaps  it  had 
formed  a  water  course  in  other  ages,  but  now  the  sand 
of  the  desert  had  drifted  in,  and  covered  all  with  a 
yellow  mantle  of  desolation.  A  few  gnarled  shrubs 
clung  precariously  to  the  steep  banks,  while  farther 
back,  a  bunch  of  more  pretentious  bushes  hid  the  upper 
end  of  the  depression.  The  sides  were  too  steep  to 
scale  even  on  foot,  the  loose  sand  foiling  every  attempt, 
so  she  was  compelled  to  follow  the  course  of  the  defile 
in  seeking  a  way  out.  The  sun  was  well  down  in  the 
western  sky,  the  little  ravine  lying  largely  in  shadow, 
and  for  the  first  few  yards  of  advance  the  girl  had  no 
suspicion  she  was  not  alone.  The  patch  of  sagebrush 
limited  her  view,  and  she  was  threading  her  way 
through  these,  when  the  sound  of  a  voice  speaking 
caused  her  to  crouch  suddenly  down  in  the  midst  of 
the  thicket,  and  lie  motionless,  scarcely  daring  to 
breathe.  It  was  the  voice  itself  which  paralyzed  her 
every  volition,  a  voice  instantly  recognized,  never  to 
be  forgotten — the  voice  of  Bob  Meager. 

Her  ears  caught  but  a  word  or  two,  disconnected 
(172) 


TWO  OF  A  KIND 


meaningless,  an  outburst  of  profanity,  and  a  brutal 
laugh,  yet  there  could  be  no  possible  doubt  as  to  the 
speaker.  It  was  Meager,  rough,  coarse  as  ever.  He 
was  not  dead  then;  the  blow  struck  had  no  more  than- 
stunned  the  man,  and — and  she  was  his  wife.  Debo 
rah's  fingers  dug  at  the  sand  in  sudden  agony,  as  that 
hideous  thought  came  home  anew  to  her  mind.  She 
was  legally  married  to  that  repulsive  brute,  that  foul- 
mouthed  cur;  he  was  there  seeking  her,  had  in  some 
way  discovered  their  trail  across  the  desert,  and  now, 
actuated  by  revenge,  was  seeking  to  get  her  once  again 
in  his  power.  She  could  conceive  no  other  purpose  in 
his  relentless  pursuit.  In  some  mysterious  way  he 
must  have  discovered  what  had  occurred,  suspected 
that  she  and  Kelleen  had  ridden  away  together,  and 
then  followed,  like  an  Indian,  on  the  trail.  She  lifted 
her  head  suddenly;  another  voice  spoke  quietly,  indif- 
ferently, interrupting  Meager's  outburst  of  profanity 
as  though  it  had  never  occurred.  Surely,  the  voice  was 
familiar,  it  must  have  been  Kelleen  himself  who 
spoke. 

She  crept  forward  inch  by  inch,  crouching  low  behind 
the  sage  until  she  could  see  the  figures  of  the  two  men. 
Neither  one  faced  her;  Meager  sat  on  the  side  of  the 
bank,  his  horse  grazing  just  beyond,  while  the  "  Frisco 
Kid"  remained  in  the  saddle,  his  mount  still  breathing 

(173) 


GIFT  OF  THE  DESERT 


heavily  as  though  he  had  only  just  arrived  after  a 
hard  ride. 

"Well,  what  difference  does  it  make?"  he  asked 
quietly.     "Am  I  in  on  this,  or  not?" 

"  Of  course  you're  in  now,"  was  the  surly  response. 
"I  reckon  that  was  what  caused  you  to  show  up  in 
these  parts,  ain't  it?  Casebeer  squealed,  and  you  got 
wise  to  the  whole  game.  I  wondered  what  was  being 
pulled  off  when  you  rode  in  last  night.  Say,  *  Kid,' 
who  really  piped  it  to  you  —  Casebeer  or  Garrity?" 

"The  less  you  know  about  that  the  longer  you'll 
live,  Bob,"  Kelleen  replied  calmly.  "  It  is  enough  that 
I  do  know,  not  only  what  you  are  up  to  out  here,  but 
that  it  was  also  your  game  to  double-cross  me.  I  don't 
take  kindly  to  that  sort  of  thing " 

"  This  wasn't  no  part  of  our  deal." 

"  Well,  I  say  it  was ;  it's  Mex  war  stuff,  isn't  it,  that 
Casebeer's  running  through?  Who  got  you  a  chance 
at  that  in  the  first  place  ?  " 

He  grinned,  good-naturedly  enough,  waiting  for  the 
other  to  reply,  then  resumed. 

"  But  let  that  go  now.  You  thought  you  could  throw 
me,  which  is  an  old  story.  You  tried  the  same  game 
once  before,  Bob.  The  scheme  has  never  worked  very 
well.  You  haven't  got  the  brains  to  do  it  with.  Case- 
beer never  told  me  anything ;  nor  Garrity.    All  I  needed 

(174) 


TWO  OF  A  KIND 


was  to  know  you,  and  your  kind.  You  were  never 
honest  in  your  life,  and  when  I  heard  about  this  deal, 
it  was  easy  enough  to  figure  what  was  up.  I  didn't 
have  to  ask  any  questions  of  your  gang.  I  came  out 
to  see  for  myself." 

"  What  deal,  '  Kid  ? '    What  do  you  mean  ?  " 

"This  ranch  inheritance  Garrity  fixed  up  so  nicely 
for  you.  No,  I  haven't  all  the  dope  —  not  yet.  But 
I'm  on  my  way  to  it,  all  right;  the  rawest  deal  I  ever 
heard  about,  and  it  will  blow  up  like  a  punctured  bal- 
loon, just  so  soon  as  your  stepmother  gets  nerve  enough 
to  see  a  good  lawyer.    That's  true,  ain't  it,  Bob?" 

"  The  old  man  left  it  to  me." 

"Yes,  he  did  —  not."  I  was  down  in  old  Mex  when 
I  first  heard  what  was  going  on  up  here.  Young  Clair 
got  hold  of  one  end  of  the  story  somehow,  and  told  it 
to  me.  He  didn't  know  very  much,  only  that  you  and 
Garrity  were  hand  in  glove,  and  that  you  were  up 
here  running  things  —  you  remember  Clair?" 

"He  worked  here  on  the  ranch." 

"Yes;  that's  what  made  him  talk.  He's  square, 
that  kid,  and  you  fired  him,  and  every  other  American 
on  the  place;  then  put  on  Mexicans.  That  made  him 
sore.  When  he  told  me  that  I  came  pretty  near 
knowing  what  was  up." 

"You  did,  hey!    Wanted  a  hand  in  the  game?" 
(175) 


GIFT  OF  THE  DESERT 


"  Why  shouldn't  I,  Bob?  I  held  you  up  when  you 
was  flat,  didn't  I  ?  There  is  no  reason  why  you  should 
forget  me  now.  Damn  you !  I  mean  to  see  that  you 
don't.  That's  what  I'm  here  for.  Now  listen  —  I'm 
on  to  what  is  going  to  be  pulled  off  tonight  —  this  Case- 
beer  business.  It  doesn't  make  any  difference  how  I 
found  that  out,  or  who  gave  it  away.  You  sent  Sanchez 
and  his  helper  over  here  to  take  care  of  the  Casebeer 
outfit  —  that's  right,  isn't  it?" 

Meager  growled  something  indistinctly,  his  eyes  an- 
grily watchful,  but  Kelleen  remained  on  guard. 

"  There  is  no  use  playing  the  hog,  Bob,"  the  latter 
went  on  coolly.  "  I've  got  the  cards,  and  I'm  no  girl 
you  can  play  the  brute  with,  like  you  did  last  night. 
Sanchez  naturally  thought  you  sent  me  out  here;  I  told 
him  you  did,  and  he  saw  me  at  the  ranch  last  evening* 
Consequently  it  was  easy  enough  to  find  out  all  he 
knew.  He  was  supposed  to  meet  you  here,  but,  as  you 
see,  I  came  instead.  I  thought  it  might  be  just  as  well 
for  us  to  reach  an  understanding  before  Casebeer 
showed  up." 

"You  damned  devil!" 

"I  appreciate  the  compliment,"  smiling  ironically, 
"  but  I  am  here  to  do  business,  not  to  exchange  felici- 
tations.   What  time  does  this  outfit  come  in? " 

"  Between  now  and  midnight." 
(176) 


TWO  OF  A  KIND 


"What  are  they  running ?" 

"War  stuff,  of  course." 

"And  you  have  the  way  cleared  —  Garrity  brought 
you  that  information,  no  doubt.  Has  he  gone  back 
to  Nogales?" 

"Yes;    this  morning.' ' 

"I  see;  everything  has  been  attended  to.  Some- 
body with  brains  is  engineering  this.  You  and  Sanchez 
do  the  rough  work  while  the  judge  clears  the  trail. 
All  right;  I've  got  it  mapped  out  now.  I  was  afraid 
the  Mexican  might  be  lying  to  me,  but  I  guess  he  wasn't. 
You  are  really  not  supposed  to  be  in  this  deal  at  all. 
The  Mex  takes  the  stuff  across  the  line,  gets  your  share 
of  the  boodle,  and  brings  it  back.  All  you  need  do  is 
hide  out  here,  and  wait.    Pretty  soft,  I'd  say." 

"Is  it?    Well,  what  are  you  going  to  do?" 

"  Play  square,  Bob.  I'm  damned  if  you  deserve  it, 
but  I'll  only  take  my  share.  I'll  go  along  with  the  outfit, 
though,  to  make  sure  I  get  it.  Then  we'll  split  right 
here.  Keep  that  hand  away.  You  have  been  edging 
in  toward  that  gun  for  the  last  five  minutes.  I've  got 
you  covered,  you  sneaking  cur.  I  don't  take  any  chances 
with  your  kind.    Now  are  you  ready  to  come  clean? " 

There  was  no  immediate  answer,  and  Kelleen  settled 
back  into  his  saddle,  but  still  faced  the  other,  who  had 
risen  to  his  feet. 

(177) 


GIFT  OF  THE  DESERT 


" 1  came  up  here  half  inclined  to  kill  you,"  the 
younger  man  said  soberly,  "  but  now  I  am  going  to  give 
you  a  show-down  if  you  play  fair.  I  know  you  would 
double-cross  anybody  if  you  had  a  chance.  I  don't 
mean  to  give  you  any.  You  stay  here  until  I  come  back; 
if  you  fail,  I'll  run  you  down,  no  matter  where  you  go. 
You  get  that?" 

"Damn  you  —  yes." 

"And  you  know  what  that  means?" 

Meager's  fingers  clinched  and  unclinched,  his  tongue 
wetting  his  dry  lips. 

"  You  needn't  make  any  promise,  Bob.  Your  word 
means  nothing  to  me.  You  stay  here  until  I  come  back. 
If  you  don't,  you  are  as  good  as  dead  —  that's  all. 
That's  my  pledge;  and  you  know  whether  it  is  good, 
or  not.    Anything  more  you  want  to  say?" 

He  backed  his  horse  slowly  down  into  the  bottom 
of  the  gully,  turning  the  animal's  head  toward  the 
opposite  bank,  but  still  twisted  in  the  saddle  so  as  to 
confront  Meager.  He  had  drawn  his  revolver,  and 
held  it  carelessly  in  his  hand. 

"You  are  such  a  dirty,  low-down  brute,"  he  said 
coldly,  "it  would  really  be  a  pleasure  to  put  you  out 
of  the  world.  I  sometimes  wonder  why  I  don't.  The 
Mex  tells  me  you  got  married  last  night.  Was  it  the 
real  thing  this  time?" 

(178) 


TWO  OF  A  KIND 


"That's  none  of  your  damned  business." 

"Perhaps  not,  but  let's  be  social  while  we  are  to- 
gether. Partners  ought  not  to  quarrel.  Surprises  me 
you  should  desert  the  fair  bride  so  soon.  You  seem 
to  have  your  head  wrapped  up  —  couldn't  be  a  love 
tap,  could  it?" 

Meager's  temper  obtained  full  control  at  this  un- 
pleasantry. 

"Hell,  I  was  drunk!"  he  growled  viciously.  "But 
she'll  pay  for  it,  the  next  time  I  get  hands  on  the 
wench." 

"So,  she  got  away  then?  Lord,  Bob,  I  always 
thought  you  was  a  woman  tamer.  This  one  is  of  an- 
other sort,  then,  than  those  you  are  accustomed  to 
handling;  doesn't  take  kindly  to  the  cave-man  stuff?" 

"  She'll  take  it,  all  right,  the  damn  little  vixen.  She 
hit  me  when  I  was  drunk,  and  then  got  away;  hid  in 
the  old  lady's  room,  I  reckon,  for  I  couldn't  find  her 
nowhere.  But  I'll  bring  the  girl  out  o'  there  tonight, 
by  God,  an'  she  won't  have  no  drunk  man  to  deal  with 
neither." 

Kelleen  laughed,  evidently  well  satisfied  with  what 
he  had  learned,  and  having  no  further  desire  to  add  to 
Meager's  discomfiture.  His  restive  horse  suddenly 
sprang  forward  under  the  quick  thrust  of  the  man's 
heel,  crashing  through  the  tangle  of  sage,  and  up  the 

(179) 


GIFT  OF  THE  DESERT 


steep  bank  to  the  level  of  the  desert  above.  Deborah 
had  barely  time  to  sink  her  body  lower  into  the  sand 
behind  her  covert,  when  the  startled  animal  swept  past, 
one  hoof  scarcely  missing  her.  Meager,  with  an  oath, 
swung  a  hand  back  to  his  pistol  butt,  yet  was  already  too 
late  —  Kelleen  had  gone  over  the  crest,  the  faint  echo 
of  a  laugh  floating  behind  him  tantalizingly. 


(180) 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

MORE  COMPLICATIONS 

ALL  the  girl  could  do  was  to  remain  silently  where 
S  she  lay  behind  that  cluster  of  sage.  Had  she  been 
seen  by  either  of  the  men?  Did  Kelleen  catch  glimpse 
of  her  as  his  horse  dashed  up  the  bank?  or  had  Bob 
Meager,  staring  after  him,  chanced  to  discover  her 
hiding  place  ?  She  had  no  means  of  knowing,  but  could 
only  keep  her  motionless  pose  like  a  frightened  rabbit. 
It  was  already  growing  dusk,  and  shadows  hung  over 
the  gully,  becoming  deeper  with  every  passing  moment. 
If  she  had  escaped  observation  so  far  she  would  soon 
be  perfectly  safe.    And  she  was  —  she  was ! 

The  certainty  was  like  a  glass  of  wine,  the  blood 
coming  back  to  her  heart,  her  pulse  steadying.  Kelleen 
had  ridden  on,  never  pausing;  she  could  hear  the  dull 
thud  of  his  horse's  hoofs  in  the  sand,  until  the  sound 
died  away  in  the  distance.  And  Meager  stood  there, 
revolver  in  hand,  cursing  impotently;  finally  leaping 
forward  across  the  gully  to  where  he  could  stare  out 
over  the  edge  of  the  bank  toward  where  his  enemy  had 
disappeared.  Neither  man  then  had  seen  her;  neither 
had  the  slightest  conception  of  her  presence,  yet  she 
dare  not  move,   or  attempt  to  change  position;  the 

(181) 


GIFT  OF  THE  DESERT 


slightest  motion  might  mean  betrayal.  She  shrank  even 
closer  in  the  shadow  waiting.  Would  Meager  stay 
there,  or  go  away  ?  In  truth  of  the  two  men  she  dreaded 
him  the  least,  despising  the  fellow  so  thoroughly  as  to 
have  largely  lost  her  fear.  She  could  face  him,  fight 
him,  if  necessary;  he  was  no  more  than  a  cowardly 
brute,  whose  measure  she  had  already  taken  —  but 
Kelleen !  She  was  actually  afraid  of  him.  If  she  had 
still  retained  any  lingering  doubt  as  to  what  he  was, 
that  doubt  had  been  entirely  vanished  by  this  conversa- 
tion. The  man  had  worn  no  mask  talking  with  Bob 
Meager;  made  no  attempt  to  disguise  himself.  She 
recognized  him  now  as  thief,  and  border  desperado,  no 
better  probably  than  those  he  associated  with  —  and  far 
more  dangerous. 

It  seemed  to  Deborah  as  though  that  dimly  outlined 
figure  standing  at  the  edge  of  the  bank  would  never 
move.  The  fellow  was  evidently  trying  to  satisfy  him- 
self that  Kelleen  had  really  gone,  before  finally  deciding 
on  his  own  course  of  action.  Darkness  was  fast  shutting 
down  about  them  like  a  curtain,  and  great  desert  stars 
began  to  show  overhead.  She  realized  that  Meager 
had  slipped  his  gun  back  into  his  holster,  and  appeared 
satisfied  now  that  he  had  been  left  alone.  His  actions, 
and  certain  muttered  words,  aroused  her  interest,  and 
held  her  in  concealment  watching  his  every  movement. 

(182) 


MORE  COMPLICATIONS 


The  fellow  purposed  something — but  what?  Those 
surely  were  night  glasses  through  which  he  searched  the 
horizon,  crossing  from  side  to  side  of  the  ravine,  and 
lying  flat  on  the  sand  while  sweeping  the  circle  before 
him  inch  by  inch.  Evidently  nothing  was  discovered 
to  awaken  suspicion,  for  he  came  back  to  his  horse,  and 
loosened  a  long  rope  coiled  about  the  saddle  pommel, 
and,  with  this  on  his  arm,  tramped  down  the  gully, 
within  a  yard  of  where  she  lay,  his  figure  fading  almost 
instantly  into  the  darker  shadows  below. 

At  the  moment  the  girl  scarcely  conceived  what  his 
mission  might  be.  Her  whole  mind  seemed  to  concen- 
trate on  the  opportunity  for  escape  which  his  absence 
offered.  If  she  could  attain  the  horse  unnoticed,  and 
once  securely  vault  into  the  saddle  she  could  be  over  the 
bank,  and  out  into  the  black,  noiseless  desert  almost  in 
an  instant.  She  arose  crouching  upon  her  feet,  yet 
hesitated  an  instant,  feeling  a  sudden  curiosity  to  learn 
what  Meager  might  be  searching  for.  He  could  not 
go  far,  for  the  ravine  ended  abruptly  against  a  rock 
wall.  She  had  a  mental  picture  of  the  scene.  Good 
God!  could  the  man  be  seeking  after  that  narrow  open- 
ing through  which  she  had  just  escaped?  Could  it  be 
possible  he  knew  of  its  presence  there?  Where  it  led? 
the  secret  of  that  mysterious  tunnel  in  the  cliff? 

If  that  was  not  his  mission  what  could  he  be  doing 
(183) 


GIFT  OF  THE  DESERT 


now?  Why  was  he  so  secretive?  The  whole  affair 
fascinated  her  —  that  strange,  hidden  mine  with  the 
dead  man  lying  in  the  black  passage,  and  its  long- 
bearded,  ape-armed  guard,  peering  vigilantly  through 
the  vines.  Were  they  all  connected  together  —  part  of 
some  criminal  conspiracy,  into  the  vortex  of  which  she 
had  been  innocently  drawn  ?  The  opportunity  to  escape 
was  now  open;  Meager  had  entirely  disappeared  in  the 
darkness;  she  could  no  longer  even  distinguish  the 
sound  of  the  man's  movements,  while  his  horse,  saddled 
and  bridled,  stood  unguarded  not  a  dozen  yards  away. 
Yet  the  girl  lingered,  waiting  to  assure  herself  as  to  the 
real  nature  of  the  fellow's  mission.  She  no  longer 
thought  of  who  he  was  —  her  husband;  but  only  of  his 
purpose  in  that  place. 

Forth  from  the  darkness  to  her  strained  ears  came 
the  sound  of  a  low  whistle,  a  peculiar  note  resembling 
the  call  of  a  wild  bird,  quite  evidently  a  signal,  as  it  was 
repeated  three  times.  To  Deborah's  imagination  the 
whistler  must  be  bending  above  the  orifice  in  the  rock. 
There  was  a  pause,  the  desert  silence  profound,  and  then 
again  the  same  signal  impatiently  given.  Apparently 
there  was  no  response  of  any  nature  from  below,  and 
Meager  lost  control  of  his  caution,  for  he  burst  forth 
in  a  string  of  oaths,  ending  this  tirade  by  calling  down 
into  the  hole,  his  voice  muffled  as  though  he  had  inserted 

(184) 


MORE  COMPLICATIONS 


his  head  as  far  as  possible  within  the  narrow  opening. 
The  words  came  back  indistinct,  occasionally  lost. 

"  Below  there !  you  Manuel !  Answer  me,  you  damn 
dog!  This  is  Bob;  do  you  hear?  By  God,  the  fool 
must  be  asleep.  I'll  skin  you  alive  if  you  fail  me  now. 
What  the  hell  does  this  mean?" 

He  apparently  stood  up,  or  at  least  lifted  his  head 
from  out  the  aperture,  for  the  voice  sounded  clearer  to 
Deborah.  The  change  startled  her  so  she  sprang  to 
her  feet,  ready  for  escape  before  he  could  return,  yet 
waited  another  instant,  breathless,  poised  for  flight. 

"Damn  the  luck!"  growled  Meager  to  himself, 
unconsciously  aloud,  "  when  I  want  the  fool  he  fails  me. 
By  God !  something  must  be  wrong,  but  what  the  hell 
can  I  do?  I  got  to  find  out  what's  up  —  that's  sure; 
an'  there  ain't  but  one  way  o'  doin'  it;  I  got  to  git  down 
below,  an'  damn  quick  too,  before  Casebeer  gits  here." 

Deborah  paused  no  longer.  He  was  coming  back; 
there  was  no  other  way  if  he  intended  going  down  the 
cliff.  She  ran  swiftly  through  the  dark,  reckless  of  the 
scraggy  sage,  desperate  to  attain  the  horse.  The  man 
must  have  heard  her,  had  some  intimation  of  move- 
ment in  the  black  night,  for  he  gave  utterance  to  a 
startled  oath,  and  his  feet  crunched  in  the  sand.  But 
he  was  already  too  late,  too  far  behind.  In  a  moment 
more  the  frightened  girl  had  gripped  the  bridle  rein, 

(185) 


GIFT  OF  THE  DESERT 


flinging  it  back  over  the  animal's  head,  and,  in  spite  of  his 
backing  away,  startled  by  her  sudden  appearance,  had, 
in  sheer  desperation  of  terror,  scrambled  into  the  saddle. 
The  horse  wheeled  sharply  about,  maddened  by  the  flap 
of  her  skirt,  and  leaped  forward,  straight  across  the 
gully,  and  up  the  sharp  incline  opposite.  She  clung  tight 
to  the  pommel,  lying  almost  flat,  letting  him  bear  her 
where  he  would.  Her  eyes  caught  one  glimpse  of  the 
man's  figure,  dim,  indistinct,  grotesque,  racing  toward 
them ;  then  he  fired  twice,  the  red  glare  lighting  up  the 
night.  The  next  instant  they  were  over  the  top,  speed- 
ing frantically  into  the  inky  blackness  of  the  desert 
night,  no  sound  but  the  slugging  of  the  animal's  hoofs 
in  the  soft  sand. 

A  hundred  yards,  and  she  sat  up  in  the  saddle,  reining 
her  frightened  horse  in,  and  staring  back  through  the 
dark  curtain.  She  had  escaped,  she  was  free !  Nothing 
else  mattered.  Meager's  hasty  shots  had  failed ;  neither 
she  nor  the  horse  had  been  touched.  Now  he  was  back 
there  helpless  on  foot,  while  she  was  free,  and  in  saddle. 
But  where  should  she  ride?  in  which  direction?  where 
was  safety  to  be  found  before  daylight?  She  drew  the 
horse  down  to  a  walk,  and  studied  the  stars  overhead  in 
an  endeavor  to  determine  even  the  points  of  the  com- 
pass. Her  heart  seemed  to  stop  beating;  how  lonely  it 
all  was,  how  deadly  quiet,  and  desolate. 

(186) 


MORE  COMPLICATIONS 


Was  that  a  sound  —  there  to  her  left?  She  stared, 
half  conscious  of  a  deeper  shadow  looming,  yet  uncer- 
tain, checking  the  sudden  spring  of  her  horse.  Then 
she  knew,  but  too  late;  the  black  thunderbolt  rushed 
upon  her,  and  a  man,  leaning  from  his  saddle,  had 
clasped  her  arm,  even  as  he  jerked  his  own  mount 
almost  on  its  haunches. 

"  No  shooting,  please ! "  a  voice  said  a  bit  sternly. 
"It  is  you,  then?" 

She  suppressed  the  scream  which  almost  escaped  her 
lips,  but  her  answer  faltered. 

"You  thought  it  was  I  then?  You  were  seeking 
after  me  ?" 

"  Of  course;  people  scarcely  meet  by  chance  here  — 
in  this  desert  and  darkness." 

"But  why,  may  I  ask,  should  we  meet  by  either 
chance,  or  otherwise?" 

"Inclination  may  have  had  something  to  do  with 
that,  and  a  desire  to  serve.  Am  I  not  somewhat 
responsible  in  your  case?" 

"I  do  not  care  to  acknowledge  any  such  responsi- 
bility. I  prefer  now  to  go  my  own  way  alone.  Do  you 
understand?" 

"You  mean  those  words  just  as  they  sound?"  he 
asked,  releasing  his  grasp  on  her  arm,  yet  only  lowering. 
his  hand  to  her  horse's  rein. 

(187) 


GIFT  OF  THE  DESERT 


"The  words  certainly  express  my  meaning  exactly, 
Mr.  Kelleen.    Why  do  you  retain  hold  of  that  rein  ?  M 

11  To  prevent  any  attempt  on  your  part  to  ride  away," 
he  acknowledged,  a  slight  coldness  in  his  tone,  "  at  least 
until  we  understand  each  other  better.  I  had  up  to  this 
minute  supposed  you  were  endeavoring  to  escape  from 
that  fellow  back  yonder;  now  I  learn  you  were  running 
away  from  me  also.    Is  that  the  truth  ?" 

She  hesitated;  then  courage  returned. 

"  I  fear  you  more  even  than  I  do  Bob  Meager,"  she 
answered  honestly,  "  and  despise  you  more." 

"  That  is  a  pleasant  statement.  I  wonder  if  I  really 
deserve  it?  You  think  I  deserted  you?  left  you  unnec- 
essarily? First  listen  to  my  explanation — yes,  you 
must;  I  shall  not  let  you  go  until  you  do."  He  laughed 
rather  bitterly.  "  Really  it  surprises  me  that  I  take  all 
this  trouble.  I  have  never  been  termed  a  ladies'  man, 
or  cared  particularly  as  to  how  I  stood  in  their  estima- 
tion. But  I  deliberately  started  out  to  help  you,  and 
you  are  not  going  to  act  the  fool  now,  if  I  can  prevent 
it.    Will  you  listen  to  me? " 

14 1  know  of  no  way  to  avoid  doing  so ;  but  I  prefer 
that  you  release  my  horse." 

He  was  resting  over  his  pommel  endeavoring  to  see 
her  features  through  the  gloom.  Then  his  fingers 
relaxed  their  hold  on  the  rein,  and  he  straightened  up 

(188) 

I 


MORE  COMPLICATIONS 


facing  her.  They  were  two  indistinct  figures,  barely 
discernible. 

"I  trust  you,"  he  said  simply.  "You  are  better 
mounted  than  I,  and  armed,  but  I  will  not  believe  you 
look  upon  me  altogether  as  a  villain.  You  had  con- 
fidence in  me  last  night — did  you  not?" 

"Yes  —  last  night.  I  was  desperate,  afraid,  and — ■ 
and  I  accepted  all  you  told  me." 

"  I  am  the  same  man  now,"  he  said  earnestly.  "  I 
am  Daniel  Kelleen,  just  as  ready  to  prove  my  friendship 
now  as  then.    You  do  not  believe  that?  " 

"  No,  I  do  not ;  I  cannot.  You  insist  on  knowing  why  ? 
There  is  no  reason  why  I  should  not  explain  what  has 
made  the  difference.  Last  night  I  accepted  your  assist- 
ance from  necessity.  I  had  to  escape  that  ranch  before 
daylight,  and  you  offered  the  only  chance.  I  —  I  did 
not  know  who  you  were  then  —  only — only  in  a  vague 
way.  I  rather  accepted  you  as  an  American  cowboy, 
and — and  you  made  me  trust  you." 

"  During  our  night  ride,  you  mean?  " 

"Yes,  you  told  me  a  little  about  yourself;  perhaps  it 
was  not  true,  but  you  made  me  think  it  was,  and  I  gained 
confidence  in  you  in  spite  —  in  spite  of  your — your 
reputation." 

"I  see — the  *  Frisco  Kid'  business.  That  was  a 
little  off  color,  wasn't  it?    If  I  remember  right  you  go! 

(189) 


GIFT  OF  THE  DESERT 


my  history  principally  from  *  Pop '  Reynolds,  with  all 
embellishments  thrown  in.  Yet,  nevertheless,  you 
managed  to  like  me?    Is  that  it?" 

"  I  had  to  trust  you  then.  I  tried  to  believe  all  you 
told  me,  and — and  you  were  nice." 

"Good  enough;  and  then  what?" 

"  It  was  not  because  you  left  me.  I  thought  I  under- 
stood that;  you  were  seeking  to  save  me  from  discovery. 
Yet  even  then  I  was  not  sure,  not  as  confident  in  you  as 
when  we  were  alone  together.  I  —  I  began  to  doubt, 
to  desire  to  get  away  from  you.  Sanchez  was  too 
friendly,  too  willing  to  acknowledge  your  leadership, 
and  obey  your  orders  —  and — and  you  knew  too  much 
about  what  was  going  on  here." 

"  I  did  some  pretty  shrewd  guessing,  that's  true,"  he 
said  soberly.  "I  knew  enough  for  that,  at  least;  all 
Sanchez  knew  of  me  was  my  name,  and  that  I  was 
supposed  to  be  a  friend  of  Meager's.  He  saw  me  over 
at  the  ranch,  and  I  bluffed  all  the  rest  through." 

"  He  knew  you  as  *  Frisco  Kid? ' " 

"Of  course.  It  was  that  individual's  reputation 
which  won  his  loyalty." 

"So  I  supposed.  And  I  am  beginning  to  believe 
justly,"  Deborah  said  coldly.  "You  told  me  a  very 
interesting  story,  Mr.  Daniel  Kelleen,  which  I  know 
now  to  be  false." 

(190) 


CHAPTER  XIX 

KELLEEN  BECOMES  MASTER 

KELLEEN  made  no  movement,  and  for  the  moment 
no  answer.  He  had  anticipated  this  outburst,  yet 
was  not  quite  prepared  to  meet  it.  Her  voice  spoke 
again. 

"You  have  lied  to  me,  haven't  you?" 

"I  prefer  learning  first  why  you  reach  this  conclu- 
sion," he  replied  calmly.  "  Does  it  come  from  my  con- 
versation with  Juan  Sanchez?" 

"It  began  there.  I  could  scarcely  help  suspecting 
you  after  listening  to  what  you  had  to  say  to  that 
Mexican  outlaw.  Besides,  he  discussed  you  quite  freely 
with  his  companion  in  my  hearing  before  you  returned. 
When  you  did  come  all  you  had  to  say  to  them  only 
confirmed  his  statement  —  you  are  out  here  not  so 
much  in  my  protection,  but  as  the  representative 
of  Bob  Meager.  I  am  merely  your  plaything  en 
route." 

"You  are  indeed  complimentary.  Did  I  serve 
Meager,  you  think  by  running  off  with  his  wife  ?  M 

"  There  is  no  law,  or  decency  on  this  border  where 
any  woman  is  concerned,"  she  burst  out  bitterly.     "  I 

(191) 


GIFT  OF  THE  DESERT 


have  at  least  learned  that.  I  do  not  know  your  real 
object;  only  that  you  are  one  of  this  disreputable  gang; 
that  you  came  here  to  serve  its  purposes;  that  I  was 
therefore  only  an  incident  —  to  be  lied  to,  and 
laughed  at." 

"  You  reached  this  conclusion  from  what  you  over- 
heard of  the  talk  between  Sanchez  and  myself?  Of 
course  I  knew  you  were  there." 

"  Exactly,  and  did  not  even  care.  Your  very  insolence 
was  an  insult.  You  believed  me  then  entirely  in  your 
power.  I  had  fled  with  you  into  the  desert.  You 
thought  there  was  no  escape  possible  —  that  I  was 
already  compromised,  helpless.  You  could  sit  calmly 
there  on  your  horse,  laugh  and  sneer,  and  I  dare  do 
nothing  to  protect  myself.  Then  you  rode  off,  and  left 
me — your  last  glance  one  of  insolent  triumph.  It  was 
then  I  fully  realized  that  I  was  only  your  victim.  I  was 
afraid  of  you,  and  I  hated  you  then." 

His  voice  was  very  low,  very  quiet. 

"You  lost  all  faith?  You  attempted  to  run  away, 
and  hide  from  me  before  I  could  return?" 

"  I  attempted  to  get  away — yes.  I  could  not  remain 
there;  it  would  even  be  better  to  die  on  the  desert. 
But — but  I  am  not  wholly  sure  I  had  lost  all  faith. 
Nothing  was  quite  clear,  but — but  I  was  afraid  of  you. 
You  had  lied  to  me;  I  could  not  trust  myself  alone  with 

(192) 


KELLEEN  BECOMES  MASTER 


you  any  longer.    But  since  then  I  have  lost  all  faith  — 
do  you  know  why  ?  " 

"  I  can  make  a  guess.  You  also  overheard  the  talk 
between  myself  and  Bob  Meager." 

"Every  word.    How  did  you  know?" 

"  Because  I  had  glimpse  of  you  as  my  horse  topped 
the  bank.  I  had  sought  you  everywhere  after  I  finally 
got  rid  of  Sanchez.  The  truth  is  I  was  still  seeking 
your  trail  when  I  encountered  Bob  skulking  there  in 
the  gully.  Our  meeting  was  not  prearranged;  it  was 
an  accident.  Were  you  there  when  we  first  came 
together?" 

"  No ;  which  is  quite  fortunate  for  your  story;  it  gives 
sufficient  scope  to  your  imagination.  There  was  nothing 
said  after  I  crept  within  hearing  at  least  to  show  any 
serious  lack  of  friendship  between  you.  You  talked 
like  partners;  and  it  was  not  for  my  sake  surely,  for 
neither  one  had  any  conception  that  I  was  within  ear- 
shot.   That  is  true,  isn't  it?" 

"Yes,"  Kelleen  acknowledged.  "  It  is  true  so  far  as 
it  goes.  You  are  perfectly  justified  in  condemning  me, 
as  the  facts  stand  in  your  mind.  I  am  not  even  going 
to  attempt  defending  myself.  I  fear  it  would  be  useless. 
I  am  merely  going  to  serve  you,  whether  you  wish  to  be 
served  or  not.  But  listen  a  minute  before  you  cast  me 
off  utterly.    Will  you  do  that?  " 

(193) 


GIFT  OF  THE  DESERT 


The  girl  hesitated,  biting  her  lips,  angered  by  his 
insistence. 

"I  cannot  very  well  help  listening;  I  doubt  if  I 
believe." 

"  Believe  or  not,  as  you  damn  please,"  he  broke  forth 
impatiently.  "This  is  no  time,  or  place  in  which  to 
play.  IVe  made  up  my  mind  what  to  do,  however  you 
decide  —  only  Fd  rather  you  put  some  faith  in  me.  It 
would  be  easier,  and  pleasanter  for  both  of  us.  The 
truth  is  I  have  been  white  with  you  —  square.  I  came 
here  seeking  refuge  just  exactly  as  I  explained  to  you 
last  night.  I  knew  this  was  a  thieves'  hole,  of  course, 
but  had  no  suspicion  that  we  were  going  to  run  into  their 
outfit  at  this  time.  But  when  we  did,  I  had  to  act  along 
with  them.  There  was  no  other  way.  I  had  you  to 
consider,  and  I  had  something  else  to  consider.  I  lied 
to  them,  not  to  you  —  to  both  Sanchez  and  Bob  Meager. 
They  are  going  to  get  the  surprise  of  their  lives  tonight. 
Now  listen.  I  came  back  there  for  you ;  I  tried  to  trace 
you  all  the  afternoon.  I  do  not  know  how  you  hid  your 
trail,  but  there  was  none  to  be  found.  Where  did 
you  go?" 

"That  is  my  secret." 

"And  you  mean  to  keep  it  from  me?  Well,  I  knew 
you  couldn't  be  far  away,  because  you  had  not  taken  the 
horse.     Finally  I  decided  you  must  have  climbed  the 

(194) 


KELLEEN  BECOMES  MASTER 


cliff  on  foot,  and  I  came  up,  and  ran  into  Meager. 
Neither  of  us  was  very  happy  about  it,  but  I  had  some 
knowledge  of  what  was  on  foot  from  Sanchez.  Only 
Bob  wasn't  there  for  that  purpose;  he  pretended  to  be, 
but  he  had  something  else  up  his  sleeve.  You  don't 
know  what  he  was  really  up  to,  do  you?  " 

"  No,"  she  said  quickly,  not  willing  yet  to  tell  her 
tale,  "why  should  I ?" 

Kelleen  went  on,  undiscouraged 

M I  didn't  know  how  long  you  were  hiding  there.  I 
only  caught  that  glimpse  of  you  as  I  rode  away, 
crouched  down  behind  the  sagebrush.  But  that  is  why 
I  came  back." 

"Because  you  saw  me?" 

"Yes;  and  because  I  believed  Bob  was  up  to  some 
trick.  I  even  had  reason  to  suspect,  did  I  not,  that  you 
two  might  be  there  together?  " 

She  faced  him  indignantly,  sitting  straight  in  her 
saddle. 

"You  thought  I  would  secretly  meet  him?" 

"  Why  not  ?  You  evidently  believe  every  evil  of  me. 
How  did  I  know  you  had  told  the  truth?  You  are  his 
wife,  by  your  own  statement.  Why  shouldn't  I  suspect, 
finding  you  there  together?  Anyhow  I  went  back  to 
discover  the  truth.  That  is  why  I  am  here  with  you 
now." 


(195) 


GIFT  OF  THE  DESERT 


"  Believing  what  of  me?" 

"I  hardly  know  —  except  not  that  You  were  not 
with  him,  yet  that  is  his  horse  you  are  riding.  He  fired 
at  you,  did  he  not?" 

"  Yes ;  he  went  past  me  down  the  gully  after  you  left. 
It  was  dark  then,  and  I  was  not  seen.  He  had  no 
knowledge  of  my  presence.  Then  I  stole  his  horse  and 
rode  away.  I  doubt  if  he  even  knew  it  was  a  woman 
he  shot  at" 

The  listlessness  suddenly  left  her  voice. 

"  But  I  am  not  going  with  you,"  she  went  on  coldly. 
"  If  you  are  a  man  you  will  not  try  to  urge  me.  I  trusted 
you  last  night,  but  not  now.  I  am  not  afraid  of  the 
night,  or  the  desert." 

"And  you  are  afraid  of  me?" 

"I  am  not  your  kind,  Mister  *  Frisco  Kid;'  that  is 
all  the  answer  I  need  make  you.    Will  you  let  me  go  ?  " 

"Where?" 

"  I'll  find  my  way;  I  have  a  horse,  and  the  stars.  By 
morning  I'll  be  in  sight  of  some  point  of  guidance. 
Anyhow  if  the  choice  is  between  the  cruel  desert  and 
you,  I  take  the  desert.    Am  I  free  to  go  ?  " 

Kelleen  laughed. 

"  You  leave  it  to  me  then?  Well,  I  say  you  are  not 
going.  I  am  not  the  sort  of  cur  who  would  let  you 
commit  suicide  just  because  you  have  taken  a  dislike  to 

(196) 


KELLEEN  BECOMES  MASTER 


me.  You  would  be  lost  in  ten  minutes ;  you  don't  know 
this  country — it's  treacherous  as  hell.  Now  listen ;  you 
are  going  to  trust  me  whether  you  wish  to,  or  not.  You 
needn't  like  me  —  that  cuts  no  ice  in  this  affair — but 
you  are  going  to  learn  that  when  I  give  my  word  to 
either  man  or  woman,  I'm  going  to  keep  it.  Now, 
that's  flat.  If  you  want  to  go  back  to  Bob  Meager,  all 
right.  I'll  take  you  to  him,  and  we're  done.  But  when 
you  talk  of  my  turning  you  loose  in  this  desert,  to  take 
your  chances  out  there  alone,  I  am  the  wrong  kind  of 
man  for  any  such  job.  You  can  hate  me  all  you  please, 
but  we  stick  together,  until  I  get  you  where  there  are 
white  folks." 

"  I  believe  I  do  hate  you ! " 

"All  right;  I  don't  mind  that.  Will  you  do  what  I 
tell  you  to  do?" 

The  man  waited,  leaning  slightly  forward,  seeking 
vainly  to  distinguish  the  girl's  features.  There  was  no 
sound  but  the  slight  creaking  of  their  saddles,  and  the 
breathing  of  the  two  horses.  They  were  alone  in  the 
great  void.  He  had  spoken  quickly,  almost  harshly, 
and  the  tone  of  command  had  aroused  Deborah's  resent- 
ment. The  two  wills  clashed,  and  neither  would  give 
way,  or  seek  compromise.  Deep  down  in  her  secret 
heart  a  bit  of  faith  in  this  Daniel  Kelleen  yet  lingered, 
but  she  was  in  no  mood  then  to  acknowledge  it.    He  was 

(197) 


GIFT  OF  THE  DESERT 


threatening  her;  trying  to  frighten  her;  endeavoring  to 
force  her  into  his  power  and  she  resented  it  immeas- 
urably. 

"  No,  I  will  not,"  she  said  sharply.  "  Take  your  hand 
off  my  bridle  rein ! " 

She  struck  her  mount  suddenly,  and  the  startled 
animal  sprang  forward,  whirling  sidewise  from  the 
blow,  careening  against  the  flank  of  Kelleen's  horse  as 
it  swept  swiftly  past.  The  next  instant  the  wild  race 
was  on  through  the  black  night.  She  heard  the  man 
call  to  her,  but  the  words  were  indistinguishable;  then 
from  behind  came  the  crunch  of  his  horse's  hoofs  in  mad 
pursuit.  And  he  was  gaining,  in  spite  of  every  effort. 
She  rode  recklessly,  desperately,  lashing  her  mount  with 
the  flapping  end  of  her  reins,  yet,  leap  by  leap,  Kelleen 
drew  closer,  riding  as  he  often  had  before  in  heading 
off  a  wild  stampede  of  cattle,  pressing  her  horse  more 
and  more  to  the  right,  into  a  half-circle  as  he  drew  near. 
He  had  but  one  aim,  one  purpose,  and  his  spurs  drew 
blood  as  he  compelled  the  animal  he  rode  to  give  its 
last  ounce  of  strength  to  the  race.  Inch  by  inch  they 
drew  closer  together,  the  girl's  skirt  flapping  against 
his  leg;  then  his  iron  grip  closed  on  the  bit  of  her  horse, 
and  the  two  animals  came  to  a  stop,  pawing  the  air, 
Deborah  retaining  her  seat  only  by  clinging  to  the 
saddle  pommel.    She  was  breathless,  frightened,  angry ; 

(198) 


KELLEEN  BECOMES  MASTER 


but  the  man  was   conqueror,    and  in   no   mood   for 
compromise. 

"You  fool!  do  you  know  where  you  were  going ?" 
he  exclaimed  sternly.  "  Straight  to  the  edge  of  that 
hole;  a  dozen  strides  more  and  you  would  have  been 
over.  By  God !  I  got  you  in  time,  but  that  is  the  last 
trick  you'll  play  on  me." 

"You — you  dare  speak  to  me  like  that — you?" 

The  man  laughed  grimly,  the  nervous  reaction  thus 
finding  unconscious  expression. 

"  Dare  ?  I'll  say  I  dare.  What  else  could  I  call  you  ? 
You  didn't  even  know  what  direction  you  were  going, 
and  headed  straight  for  a  five  hundred  foot  drop.  Now, 
listen;  from  now  on  I  am  master,  and  I'll  begin  right 
here." 

He  jerked  the  revolver  from  out  the  holster  at  her 
waist,  and  thrust  it  into  his  own  belt.  The  significance 
of  the  action  robbed  the  girl  of  all  defiance ;  she  suddenly 
felt  weak,  helpless. 

"  You — you  mean  I  must  do  whatever  you  say  ?  " 

"Exactly  that.  You  came  to  me  at  first  voluntarily; 
you  asked  my  help.  I  brought  you  here,  and  I  am  going 
to  take  you  out  safely.  You  are  at  liberty  to  hate  me, 
or  like  me,  as  you  please.  I  am  not  asking  anything  but 
obedience.  I  tried  being  a  man  with  you,  and  it  failed 
to  work;  now  I'll  try  being  a  brute,  and  see  what 
happens." 


GIFT  OF  THE  DESERT 


He  straightened  up  in  his  saddle,  evidently  startled 
by  something  in  the  distance.  She  could  barely  dis- 
tinguish his  figure  in  the  gloom,  yet  knew  that  his  unoc- 
cupied hand  was  pointing  to  the  right. 

"Do  you  see  that?"  he  asked,  his  voice  tense,  and 
eager.  "  Down  below  there  —  that  dull  red  light  ?  It's 
Casebeer's  outfit  coming  in." 


(200} 


CHAPTER  XX 

TALKING  IT  OVER 

SHE  stared  down  at  the  red  glimmer  uncompre* 
hending,  her  mind  still  agitated  by  Kelleen's  sudden 
forcefulness.  At  first  the  light  seemed  to  move,  to 
approach  slowly,  and  then  to  stop.  Deborah  thought 
she  could  perceive  figures  passing  back  and  forth  within 
its  radius. 

"Is  —  is  that  down  in  the  gulch? "  she  asked,  the 
very  silence  a  burden. 

He  answered  without  glancing  about. 

"Yes,  just  below  the  turn;  there  is  a  small  cabin 
there.  But  I  cannot  quite  make  out  what  the  fellows 
are  actually  up  to.  The  trail  leads  straight  on,  but  they 
seem  to  be  unloading  the  mules.  Does  it  look  so  to 
you?" 

The  girl  did  not  reply,  unable  to  distinguish  clearly, 
her  mind,  in  reality,  more  intent  on  this  man  sitting 
beside  her  than  upon  that  indistinct  scene  presented 
beneath.  He  had  seemingly  forgotten  her  very  presence, 
so  deeply  interested  was  he  in  what  was  transpiring 
below,  leaning  eagerly  forward,  with  eyes  never  desert- 
ing the  group  now  showing  vaguely  within  the  reddish 

(201) 


GIFT  OF  THE  DESERT 


glare  of  the  fire,  which  illumined  that  little  section  of 
the  gulch  at  their  feet.  Its  faint  reflection  even  enabled 
her  to  mark  the  stern  outlines  of  his  face  against  the 
far-away  radiance.  Her  hostility  to  the  man  somehow 
seemed  slipping  away.  She  could  not  understand  what 
it  was  which  held  her  there  quiet,  silent,  watching  him. 
The  temptation  to  act  came,  and  passed.  It  would  be 
easy  to  snatch  that  loaded  gun  from  his  belt;  a  single 
shot  would  set  her  free.  He  was  no  longer  thinking  of 
her;  his  whole  attention  was  concentrated  on  that  outfit 
working  below.  Yet  she  did  not  move;  just  sat  there 
in  the  saddle,  and  watched  him,  wondering  at  herself. 
At  last  a  sudden  uncontrollable  impulse  caused  Deborah 
to  stretch  out  her  hand,  and  grasp  his  sleeve. 

"Who  are  you?"  she  asked  directly.  "You  must 
tell  me." 

The  man  turned  his  face  toward  her  quickly, 
impatiently,  their  leveled  eyes  meeting  in  the  dim  light. 

"  I  have  already  told  you,"  he  replied,  with  no  marked 
surprise  in  his  tone.  "I  trusted  you  that  far;  but  you 
chose  to  disbelieve." 

"But  can  you  blame  me  if  I  did?"  she  exclaimed 
almost  passionately,  disturbed  once  more  by  his  apparent 
indifference.  "  It  was  merely  your  word  pitted  against 
all  these  others;  against  everything  that  has  occurred 
before  and  since.    You  are  not  just.    Do  you  remember 

(202) 


TALKING  IT  OVER 


the  things  I  have  heard  said  about  you  —  about  the 
*  Frisco  Kid' — before  I  ever  saw  you?  Stories  of 
crime,  of  reckless  murder,  of  everything  despicable? 
In  my  mind  you  ranked  as  the  most  desperately  bad  man 
of  this  border,  with  a  price  on  your  head.  If  I  had 
known  who  you  were  back  at  the  ranch,  I  should  never 
have  ridden  a  mile  with  you,  not  even  to  escape  from 
Bob  Meager,  or  a  charge  of  having  killed  him." 

"  Go  on,"  he  said  soberly,  as  she  stopped  breathless. 
"  Let's  have  this  out;  there  is  no  better  time." 

"I  never  knew  until  morning;  until  I  finally  recog- 
nized you.  Then  you  told  me  that  story — told  it  so  I 
almost  believed  it  true,  almost  trusted  you.  Really  I 
had  to  believe,  or  pretend  to  believe,  for  I  was  there 
alone  with  you,  helpless  to  protect  myself,  unable  to 
escape.  I  was  lost  in  the  desert.  Then  you  talked  with 
that  Mexican  cutthroat,  where  I  could  hear  all  you  said. 
He  accepted  you  as  one  of  the  gang,  and  even  obeyed 
your  orders.  He  believed  Bob  Meager  had  sent  you 
out  here.  You  were  certainly  lying  to  someone,  and 
naturally  I  supposed  it  must  be  me." 

11  Why  you,  may  I  ask  ?  " 

"Because  the  Mexican  knew  you;  I  didn't.  I  was 
only  a  woman  you  had  picked  up  by  accident  the  night 
before.  There  was  every  reason  why  you  should  lie 
to  me.    When  you  rode  away  together,  I  was  sure  you 

(203) 


GIFT  OF  THE  DESERT 


would  soon  be  back  alone,  and  I  determined  you  should 
never  find  me  there.  I  made  my  choice  —  it  was  the 
desert  and  death,  rather  than  you.  You  understand 
what  I  mean,  Daniel  Kelleen?" 

"Yes,  I  understand,"  quietly.  "Go  on,  let's  have 
it  all." 

"  Then  up  above,  in  that  little  gully,  I  ran  onto  you 
again,  it  makes  no  difference  how  I  happened  to  be 
there.  It  was  hours  later;  I  had  some  time  in  which  to 
think,  and  began  to  wonder  if  my  decision  had  been 
right.  Perhaps  you  were  deceiving  Sanchez,  hoping 
thus  better  to  serve  me.  I  did  not  know;  I  doubted 
everything.  Then,  in  the  gathering  dark,  I  crept 
through  that  patch  of  sagebrush,  and  found  you  in 
private  conference  with  Bob  Meager.  You  were 
surely  not  playing  a  part  then,  for  you  had  no  knowledge 
you  were  being  overheard.  Yet  you  were  extremely 
friendly,  you  even  claimed  to  be  partners  —  it  was  the 
very  word  used  —  in  this  Casebeer  affair,  and  you  finally 
rode  away  to  perform  your  part  of  the  night's  work. 
After  that  how  could  I  still  retain  faith  in  you  ?  or  trust 
myself  with  you  ?  " 

Kelleen  did  not  answer  directly,  his  gaze  leaving  her 
face  and  turning  inquiringly  to  the  strange  scene 
revealed  below.  He  stared  at  this  a  moment  in  moody 
silence.    Then  he  swung  down  from  the  saddle,  dropped 

(204) 


TALKING  IT  OVER 


the  rein  over  the  horse's  head,  and  stood  beside  her. 

"I  am  going  to  tell  you,"  he  said  calmly,  "if  you 
consent  to  listen.  I  think  we  have  ample  time  to  talk 
this  over.  I  don't  know  just  what  those  fellows  are  up 
to  down  there,  but  apparently  they  are  unloading  the 
entire  outfit.  The  only  thing  I  can  do  therefore  is  sit 
here  and  watch  the  operation  —  this  is  a  new  deal.  Will 
you  trust  me  enough  to  dismount?" 

There  was  something  about  the  man,  his  quiet  con- 
fidence, his  low,  even  voice,  his  entire  personality,  which 
Deborah  found  impossible  to  resist.  She  earnestly 
wanted  to  believe  in  him,  and  somehow  his  very  presence 
restored  to  her  a  measure  of  faith.  Hesitating  an 
instant,  even  shrinking  back  from  any  personal  contact, 
her  lips  refusing  a  direct  answer,  she  yet  permitted  his 
hand  to  close  firmly  over  her  own,  and  draw  her  down 
from  the  security  of  the  saddle  to  the  common  level  of 
the  desert  sand.  Without  a  word  of  urging,  or  explana- 
tion, Kelleen  led  her  forward  to  the  very  edge  of  the 
cliff,  where  an  exposed  rock,  swept  bare  by  the  wind, 
gave  them  a  seat.  Directly  beneath  lay  the  narrow 
valley,  dimly  lighted  by  that  single  fire,  about  which 
black  dots  constantly  moved,  too  far  away  to  be  clearly 
visible.  Occasionally  the  faint  echo  of  a  voice  reached 
them,  but  not  distinguishable.  It  was  like  a  scene  thrown 
upon  a  screen.     Kelleen  dropped  down  beside  her, 

(205) 


GIFT  OF  THE  DESERT 


peering  first  over  into  the  depths,  the  flicker  of  the  dis- 
tant flame  barely  illumining  his  face.  She  could  not 
help  but  mark  its  strong  outline. 

"You  really  do  not  understand  what  is  being  done 
down  there?"  she  asked  at  last,  as  he  held  silent. 

"  I  do  not."  He  glanced  aside  at  her,  the  trace  of  a 
smile  on  his  lips.  "  In  spite  of  my  being  so  important 
a  part  in  this  conspiracy,  I  am  wholly  at  sea.  If  you  will 
only  believe  that  to  be  true,  Miss  Deborah,  we  shall  be 
a  lot  closer  to  understanding  each  other.  There  is 
something  going  on  here  quite  beyond  me.  I  had  sup- 
posed this  was  a  plain  case  of  smuggling  war  munitions 
over  the  line  into  Mexico.  But  it  isn't.  I  have  been 
down  there,  and  trailed  every  foot  of  that  ground. 
Casebeer's  outfit  must  have  come  in  through  that  lower 
pass  yonder — beyond  the  clump  of  trees,"  extending 
his  hand,  "  and  the  only  feasible  way  to  the  border  lies 
up  the  opposite  ravine,  directly  behind  the  cabin.  All 
they  would  require  here  is  water  for  the  stock,  and  a 
guide.  That  was  to  be  Sanchez'  job.  He  was  to  assure 
them  that  the  way  ahead  was  open,  unguarded,  and  lead 
them  over  the  safe  trail.  They  need  all  the  rest  of  the 
night  to  make  it  in." 

"  But — but  they  are  unloading  the  mules." 

"That  is  exactly  what  they  are  doing — all  of  them; 
and  taking  the  stuff  back  into  the  cabin.    They  are  not 

(206) 


TALKING  IT  OVER 


going  on  at  all;  they  are  going  back  unloaded.  Now 
what  does  it  mean?  Why  did  Sanchez  lie  to  me  about 
it?  and  Bob  Meager?" 

Deborah  sat  up  straight. 

11  Why  shouldn't  they  lie  to  you? "  she  asked  quickly. 
"  If  you  are  really  what  you  pretend  to  be  to  me?" 

"Because  they  have  no  suspicion — they  can  have 
none.  Not  a  thing  has  occurred  to  arouse  such  doubt. 
The  game  has  been  played  too  carefully.  It's  not  that. 
Meager  is  endeavoring  to  double-cross  me;  I  learned 
that  up  yonder,  but,  nevertheless  he  has  not  the  faintest 
suspicion  as  yet  that  I  am  not  one  of  his  kind.  The 
fellow,  together  with  Garrity,  is  pulling  off  something 
here  out  of  the  ordinary,  which  they  want  to  keep  me 
out  of — that's  all.  It's  a  thieves'  game,  which  I  have 
butted  into  at  the  wrong  moment." 

He  stopped  suddenly;  then  turned,  and  placed  his 
hand  firmly  on  her  own  where  it  rested  on  the  rock 
surface,  his  voice  changing. 

"  Miss  Deborah,  there  is  no  masquerade  between  us. 
I  do  not  know  why  I  talked  to  you  as  freely  as  I  did  last 
night.  I  must  have  liked  you  very  much,  and  trusted 
you.  Anyhow  I  told  you  the  exact  truth,  and  there  is  no 
occasion  now  to  deny  it.  The  more  fully  you  under- 
stand the  situation  the  greater  service  you  can  render — 
and,  first  of  all,  you  must  repose  confidence  in  me.    I 

(207) 


GIFT  OF  THE  DESERT 


am  Daniel  Kelleen,  a  captain  in  the  regular  army,  who 
has  volunteered  for  special  scouting  detail  to  stop  this 
border  work.  The  character  of  the  'Frisco  Kid'  has 
been  made  to  order,  to  permit  of  my  thus  gaining  the 
confidence  of  these  outlaws.  It  has  worked,  and  I  am 
absolutely  sure,  even  now,  that  I  am  not  suspected  by 
any  of  the  gang.  The  whisper  reached  me  a  week  ago 
that  munitions  were  being  run  through  here  —  that  Bob 
Meager's  outfit  was  doing  it;  that  this  was  the  leak  we 
had  been  unable  to  stop.  I  came  up  to  Nogales ;  hung 
around  there  in  the  lowest  quarters  of  the  town,  picking 
up  stray  bits  of  rumor.  Finally  I  heard  about  Garrity, 
learned  he  was  going  out  to  the  Meager  ranch.  His 
henchman  spilt  a  little,  leaving  me  to  believe  there  was 
going  to  be  a  run  made  across  the  line  this  week — this 
Casebeer  outfit.  That's  why  I  came  out;  that's  how 
Garrity  picked  me  up  at  Silver  Springs,  and  I  rode  on 
with  him  to  Meager's." 

"And  that  is  why  you  brought  me  to  this  dreadful 
place?" 

"  I  was  trying  to  accomplish  two  things  at  once  —  yes ; 
but,  frankly  I  do  not  know  where  else  I  could  possibly 
have  taken  you  in  any  safety.  I  didn't  know  they  were 
already  here,  but  I  was  prepared  for  them — if  they 
went  on  to  the  border." 

"Prepared?  how?" 

(208) 


TALKING  IT  OVER 


She  was  deeply  interested  now,  impressed  by  his 
earnestness. 

"  I  had  sent  word  to  our  people  from  Nogales.  There 
is  a  narrow  pass  through  the  hills  on  the  trail  below, 
which  this  outfit  must  use  just  before  they  cross  into 
Mexico.  There  is  no  other  way  south  leading  from 
here.  Early  this  evening  a  squad  of  cavalry  got  there 
from  the  north,  and  are  waiting." 

"And  if  the  outfit  they  are  watching  for  do  not  show 
up  tonight,  or  early  tomorrow,  what  will  those  sol- 
diers do?" 

"  Hard  to  tell.  My  judgment  would  be  to  scout  up 
this  way,  and  endeavor  to  find  out  the  trouble.  This 
halt  here  has  knocked  out  my  plans  completely ;  my  guess 
at  the  game  has  gone  wrong.  As  it  is  I  have  the  choice 
of  two  things  —  either  remain  here,  and  learn  what 
these  birds  are  really  up  to;  or  else  ride  south,  bring 
those  troopers  back,  and  round  up  this  entire  outfit  on 
general  principles.  I'd  like  most  of  all  to  discover 
where  Meager  is.". 

"  Perhaps  I  can  help  you." 
"  You  ?  "  lightly.     "  I  hardly  believe  so." 
"  Don't  be  so  sure;  I  have  a  story  to  tell  you  yet." 
Deborah  spoke  rapidly,  clearly,  depicting  her  experi- 
ences in  the  concealed  tunnel,  her  escape  up  the  narrow 
passage  leading  to  the  desert  level,  how  she  came  to  be 

(209) 


GIFT  OF  THE  DESERT 


hidden  in  the  gully,  and  what  had  occurred  there  after 
Kelleen  had  ridden  away.  The  captain  listened  eagerly 
to  her  recital  of  adventure,  interrupting  the  narrative 
with  numerous  questions.  As  she  came  to  an  end  he  sat 
silent,  endeavoring  to  think  the  strange  situation  out, 
and  grasp  its  meaning.  This  fresh  knowledge  brought 
a  new  element  into  the  affair,  complicating  the  whole 
matter.  The  red  flame  of  the  fire  below  still  cast  its 
faint  reflection  over  them,  and  it  was  quite  evident  the 
men  at  work  down  there  had  not  yet  completed  their 
task. 

11  You  say  this  was  a  tunnel  ?  "  he  asked  finally.  "  Dug 
out,  you  mean?" 

11  The  light  was  too  poor  for  me  to  tell  very  much. 
I  thought  at  the  time  it  might  be  an  ancient  watercourse, 
but  work  had  certainly  been  done  on  it.  I  found  a  pick 
and  shovel  on  a  heap  of  loosened  rock.  Quite  a  pile  of 
broken  stone  lay  at  the  farther  end,  as  though  it  might 
have  been  blasted  from  the  wall.  I  had  to  climb 
over  it." 

Kelleen  drew  a  long  breath,  his  hand  smiting  his  knee 
in  sudden  conviction. 

"  By  God !  "  he  said  slowly.  "  I  believe  it  must  be  the 
1  Lost  Mine.'  Meager  may  have  found  it,  and  is  trying 
to  keep  it  to  himself." 

(210) 


CHAPTER  XXI 

ALONE  ON  THE  DESERT 

"fTpHE  ' Lost  Mine ?'" 

X  "Yes;  it  is  a  tradition  of  this  country,  an  old 
Spanish  legend,  I  believe,  but  implicitly  believed  for  a 
hundred  years.  Men  by  scores  have  lost  their  lives 
hunting  for  it  from  one  end  of  this  desert  to  the  other. 
I  heard  it  talked  about  more  than  five  years  ago,  when  I 
was  first  sent  out  here  from  the  Point.  The  story  goes 
that  it  was  fabulously  rich,  discovered  by  a  Spanish 
explorer,  who  carried  samples  of  ore  clear  to  Mexico 
City.  He  came  there  twice  with  laden  mules,  but 
refused  all  definite  information,  and  the  men  he  took 
back  with  him  as  helpers  were  never  permitted  to  go 
beyond  the  edge  of  the  desert.  He  would  then  go  in 
alone,  and  bring  out  the  ore,  a  muleload  at  a  time.  No 
one  ever  tracked  him;  the  only  one  who  made  any 
serious  attempt  to  do  so,  was  found  dead.  Then  one 
day  the  discoverer  failed  to  return  to  camp.  He  never 
did  come  back,  and  no  trace  of  him  was  ever  found. 
His  name  was  Alvara,  and  ever  since  men  have  been 
hunting  after  'Alvara's  Lost  Mine.' " 

"And  it  was  actually  here?" 
(211) 


GIFT  OF  THE  DESERT 


"  It  must  have  been ;  the  old  Mexican  camp  was  south 
there  in  that  canyon  where  I  told  you  the  cavalrymen 
were  waiting  tonight.  I  have  had  the  spot  pointed  out 
to  me  by  Mexicans  who  knew  the  story  well.  I  am 
beginning  to  understand  what  is  up  —  or,  at  least,  sus- 
pect what  all  this  may  mean.  Someone  has  accidentally 
stumbled  onto  this  old  mine.  I  don't  believe  the 
discoverer  could  be  either  Bob,  or  Garrity.  But  in  some 
way  they  got  wind  of  it,  and  have  taken  possession. 
This  munition  train,  supposed  to  be  headed  for  Mexico, 
stops  here.  Casebeer  don't  know  what's  up,  and  don't 
care.  He  gets  his  money  just  the  same,  with  less  travel- 
ing and  danger.  Maybe  he  asks  no  questions;  maybe 
he  knows  what's  up,  and  is  in  on  the  deal.  Anyway, 
under  orders,  he  dumps  the  stuff  —  powder,  dynamite, 
whatever  it  is  —  and  hustles  it  out  of  sight  into  that 
cabin.  Before  daylight  comes,  his  mule  train  is  back 
again  on  the  desert  empty,  traveling  north." 

"And  there  is  nothing  you  can  do,  is  there?"  she 
asked.    "  It  is  no  crime  to  discover,  and  work  a  mine?  " 

"No  —  only,  perhaps,  that  dead  man  you  tell  me 
about;  murder  is  still  a  crime,  even  on  this  border. 
There  is  something  about  this  affair  which  isn't  straight; 
otherwise  Garrity  and  Bob  Meager  wouldn't  be  in  it. 
Those  guys  are  playing  dirt  somehow  —  it  is  up  to  me 
to  find  out  how." 

(212) 


ALONE  ON  THE  DESERT 


Kelleen  stood  up,  advancing  to  the  very  edge  of  the 
flat  rock,  where  he  could  look  straight  down  into  the 
deep  depression  below.  The  cliffs  were  faintly  tinted 
red  by  the  flames  of  the  distant  fire,  and  his  figure  was 
rather  distinctly  silhouetted  against  the  upper  sky. 
Deborah  called  out  to  him  in  warning,  but  he  only 
smiled  back  carelessly. 

"There's  no  danger,"  he  said  confidently.  "The 
sky  back  of  me  is  as  black  as  ink.  I  can't  be  seen  from 
down  below." 

He  leaned  over,  scanning  the  rock  front,  and  speaking 
back  across  his  shoulder. 

"There  is  no  movement  down  there.  Casebeer's 
outfit  is  not  onto  the  scheme;  after  they  go  that  stuff  will 
all  be  carried  into  the  tunnel.  Meager  will  never  dare 
leave  it  out  yonder." 

"What's  that  place  called  where  the  soldiers  are?" 

"Box  Canyon  —  why?" 

"I  was  wondering " 

A  sharp  spit  of  fire  leaped  out  of  the  night  beyond 
the  horses,  accompanied  by  a  dull  report.  The  startled 
animals  whirled  and  disappeared  in  the  darkness,  but 
Deborah  saw  only  Kelleen,  poised  there  on  the  edge  of 
the  chasm  —  saw  him  fling  up  both  hands,  clutching 
vainly  at  the  air,  and  then  topple  over,  down  into  those 
yawning  depths  below.    She  could  not  even  scream,  but 

(213) 


GIFT  OF  THE  DESERT 


some  irresistible  instinct  caused  her  instantly  to  roll  back 
from  off  the  stone  into  the  slight  depression  at  its  base. 
In  the  black  darkness  of  this  shallow  hole  she  lay 
motionless,  scarcely  venturing  to  breathe.  In  her  fright 
and  daze  she  yet  comprehended  all  that  had  occurred; 
the  shot  had  come  not  from  beneath,  but  out  of  the 
desert.  Kelleen  had  been  killed,  the  horses  stampeded; 
she  was  unhurt,  but  alone. 

It  was  all  over  so  quickly,  the  situation  barely  flashed 
through  her  brain,  before  a  voice  spoke,  a  voice  familiar 
and  hated. 

11  By  God,  that  got  him !  Did  you  see  how  he  toppled 
plumb  over  the  cliff?  Xhat  settles  his  spying  on  us,  I 
reckon." 

"Si,  senor; but  I  would  swear  there  was  two  of  them 
there." 

"You  saw  two?" 

"No;  only  the  one  standing  against  the  light,  the 
Sefior  ' Kid.'  I  know  him;  but  I  thought  he  spoke,  and 
sure,  senor,  there  were  two  horses." 

"  Of  course,  he  stole  mine.  I  had  a  shot  at  him  then ; 
but  there  is  no  one  else  here.  Damn  you,  look  for  your- 
self, Sanchez!  This  rock  is  clean  as  a  billiard  table, 
and  there's  no  place  to  hide.  Where  the  hell  do  you 
suppose  those  broncs  went?  " 

"We  find  'em  when  the  day  comes;  they  not  go  far 
(214} 


ALONE  ON  THE  DESERT 


in  the  desert,  sefior.    Where  the  'Kid*  fall — here?" 

Deborah  realized  that  the  Mexican  had  clambered 
onto  the  flat  top  of  the  rock,  and  was  peering  down  over 
the  edge,  while  Meager  remained  on  the  sand, 
impatiently  moving  about. 

"  Well,  what  do  you  see  ?  "  he  barked  finally. 

"Not  one  damn  thing,  sefior;  black  like  hell  down 
there — he  no  live  after  that." 

Meager  laughed,  chucklingly. 

"  I'll  say  he  couldn't ;  not  even  if  he  was  a  cat.  There 
ain't  no  use  our  hanging  round  here.  That  guy  is  out 
of  the  way,  and  we'll  pick  him  up  an'  plant  him,  after 
these  others  clear  out.  Casebeer's  outfit  must  be  through 
by  this  time.  Go  on  down,  and  start  'em  back.  You 
paid  him?" 

"Si,  sefior;  he  never  unload  till  I  do;  he  what  you 
call  ' hard-boil.'" 

14  He's  hard-boiled,  all  right,  but  by  God,  he's  got  to 
hold  his  damn  tongue  over  this  deal !  I'll  go  on  down 
with  you,  and  have  a  final  word  with  him.  I'll  tell  that 
guy  something  he'll  not  forget.  Come  on;  there's 
nothing  more  for  us  to  do  up  here." 

The  frightened  girl,  crushed  into  the  shallow  hole, 
half  beneath  the  shadowing  rock,  dare  not  stir  for  some 
time.  The  men  might  decide  to  return ;  some  dim  sus- 
picion might  enter  their  minds,  causing  them  to  retrace 

(215) 


GIFT  OF  THE  DESERT 


their  steps.  She  could  see  nothing,  her  face  pressed 
hard  against  the  sand,  and  the  sound  of  the  two  died 
away  quickly.  At  last,  unable  to  remain  in  that  posture 
longer,  she  cautiously  lifted  her  head,  and  gazed  about 
into  the  darkness.  There  was  nothing  to  be  seen,  or 
heard,  and  she  finally  struggled  to  her  feet,  clinging  to 
the  rock  edge  for  support.  It  was  all  plain  enough,  yet 
she  could  not  seem  to  think  clearly,  and  her  limbs  were 
so  weak  they  would  scarcely  support  her  body.  Kelleen 
had  been  killed,  murdered.  Meager  had  crept  up  in 
the  dark,  and  shot  the  man  down  in  cold  blood  as  he 
stood  silhouetted  against  that  gleam  of  fire.  The  victim 
had  toppled  over  the  cliff,  and,  if  not  already  dead  from 
the  bullet,  must  have  been  crushed  into  pulp  on  the  rocks 
below. 

These  facts  came  home  more  and  more  visibly  to  the 
girl's  mind.  She  had  escaped  discovery  as  by  a  miracle, 
and  yet  to  what  end?  She  was  alone,  lost,  without 
either  horse  or  weapon  to  aid  her  in  escape.  Both 
animals  had  disappeared  in  the  desert  night,  her  revol- 
ver had  gone  down  with  Kelleen.  But  one  slender  bit  of 
fortune  remained — her  presence  there  was  still  unsus- 
pected. The  man,  whose  discovery  she  had  most  reason 
to  dread,  yet  believed  her  back  at  the  ranch,  hiding 
from  him  behind  locked  doors,  but  helpless  to  escape 
his  return.     How  she  had  ever  evaded  his  recognition, 

(216) 


ALONE  ON  THE  DESERT 


was  a  mystery,  yet,  thank  God !  she  had ;  and  this  fact 
alone  gave  her  a  slender  chance. 

Assured  at  last  that  the  men  had  really  departed,  a 
measure  of  strength  returning  as  she  moved  her  limbs, 
and  faced  the  realities,  Deborah  crept  back  upon  the 
flat  surface  of  the  rock,  and  gazed  frightened  into  those 
dizzy  depths  below.  It  was  like  a  nightmare,  the  horrid 
memory  which  haunted  her  of  Kelleen's  body  whirling 
down  through  that  glare  of  red  light.  But  by  then  the 
light  had  faded,  the  distant  fire  having  died  down  to 
red  ash,  and  her  eyes  were  unable  to  penetrate  the 
gloom  beneath.  She  stared  into  a  black  void,  seeing  no 
movement,  hearing  no  sound.  The  awful  silence,  and 
loneliness  crushed  her  spirit. 

What  could  she  do?  where  could  she  go?  Not  to 
those  men  there  in  the  valley  surely ;  not  to  Bob  Meager, 
asking  for  mercy  and  release.  He  was  impossible;  her 
bitter  hatred  of  him  more  intense  than  ever.  To  all  the 
wrong  done  her  in  the  past  was  added  now  this  brutal 
murder  of  Daniel  Kelleen  —  and  suddenly,  unexpect- 
edly, the  girl  realized  what  this  last  meant  to  her.  She 
refused  to  acknowledge  the  truth,  fought  it  back  there 
alone  in  the  darkness,  yet  it  would  not  be  altogether 
ignored.  Daniel  Kelleen  was  dead  —  gone  from  out 
her  life  forever  —  and  there  came  into  her  heart  a 
desire  for  revenge,  a  mad  impulse  to  fitly  punish  the 

(217) 


GIFT  OF  THE  DESERT 


murderer.  She  longed  to  become  the  instrument  to 
prove  her  loyalty  to  him  by  action.  Yet  how?  What 
was  it  possible  for  her  to  do? 

She  stared  helplessly  about  into  the  dense  blackness 
of  the  desert,  and  up  at  the  desert  stars  overhead,  her 
mind  obsessed  with  these  questions.  It  was  no  longer 
herself  so  much  as  the  aroused  memory  of  him.  She 
would  carry  on  his  work;  she  must  at  whatever  cost. 
But  how?  The  cavalrymen  stationed  at  Box  Canyon! 
They  were  waiting  for  the  approach  of  Casebeer's  outfit, 
or  else  some  word  of  command  from  Kelleen.  They 
could  not  be  far  away  over  there  —  to  the  south  he  said, 
and  he  had  pointed  in  that  direction.  The  stars  would 
help  her  to  keep  the  points  of  compass  until  daylight 
came,  and  then  surely  she  could  discern  something  else 
to  steer  her  course  by.  She  must  go  on  foot,  straight 
out  into  the  desert;  there  might  not  be  one  chance  in  a 
hundred  of  her  going  right — yet  the  one  chance  was 
better  than  remaining  there  for  Bob  Meager  to  find  her. 
She  would  rather  die  miserably  in  the  sand  waste  than 
feel  that  wretch  touch  her  again;  God,  yes,  the  kiss  of 
Death  would  be  sweet,  compared  to  the  touch  of  his 
lips.  She  shuddered  at  the  thought.  His  wife!  the 
subject  of  his  foul  caresses;  helpless  to  repel  his  lust, 
his  brutal  bestiality.  She  would  make  the  trail;  she 
would  go  south.    This  was  all  that  her  mind  grasped 

(218) 


ALONE  ON  THE  DESERT 


clearly — the  soldiers  were  camped  at  Box  Canyon,  and 
Box  Canyon  was  somewhere  out  there  to  the  southward. 
To  reach  them  was  her  only  hope. 

She  stood  up  and  studied  the  sky.  She  knew  so  little 
of  those  stars,  they  frightened  and  confused  her  in 
their  desert  brilliancy,  and  yet  she  remembered  enough 
to  meet  her  immediate  needs.  The  Big  Dipper  was 
easily  found,  and  then  the  North  Star.  She  must  be 
right  for  Kelleen  had  pointed  over  there,  and  the  direc- 
tion he  had  designated  coincided  exactly  with  what  the 
stars  told.  She  could  not  go  far  wrong  if  she  kept  that 
North  Star  at  her  back — she  would  be  going  south.  A 
moment  she  paused,  hesitating  to  take  the  plunge,  a 
prayer  on  her  lips.  How  lonely,  desolate,  black  the 
night  was;  the  very  silence  seemed  to  hem  her  in,  isolate 
her  from  all  the  world.  Then,  with  firm-set  lips,  the 
girl  went  forward,  plunging  her  way  through  the  sand, 
instantly  swallowed  up  in  the  black  desert. 

She  plunged  on  recklessly,  desperately,  hope  dying 
within  her  as  she  advanced.  Nothing  could  guide  her 
now,  or  save  her,  but  God's  mercy.  The  soundless  void 
through  which  she  moved,  the  impenetrable  black  cur- 
tain enveloping  her  almost  drove  her  mad.  She  could 
not  fight  the  depression,  or  keep  her  mind  clear.  The 
sand  shifted  under  her  feet  and  twice  she  fell  heavily, 
tripped  by  some  protruding  rock,  and  left  bruised  and 

(219) 


GIFT  OF  THE  DESERT 


- 


breathless.  Her  advance  was  blind,  uncertain,  and  she 
scarcely  dared  turn  her  face  forward  for  fear  of  losing 
the  guidance  of  that  one  star  by  which  she  endeavored 
to  steer.  She  was  lost  utterly,  but  for  that,  and,  when, 
for  a  moment,  her  eyes  strayed,  everything  became 
confused,  her  every  sense  of  direction  gone.  How  long 
she  toiled  on,  how  fast  her  rate  of  progress,  the  girl 
never  knew  —  the  way  was  uneven,  with  unexpected 
depressions  here  and  there,  and  ridges  of  rock  project- 
ing through  the  sand,  and  occasionally  mounds  she  had 
to  go  around.  Once  she  encountered  a  shallow  ravine, 
stepping  off  into  it  unconsciously,  and  then  crawling 
painfully  up  the  opposite  side,  cut  by  sharp  splinters  of 
stone,  before  attaining  the  level  again.  For  the  moment 
she  lost  her  star,  but  finally  located  it  once  more,  and 
plunged  desperately  on. 

Then  she  saw  something  just  ahead  of  her — a  dim, 
undefinable  shadow,  which  seemed  to  move.  It  was  so 
hideous,  so  grotesque,  and  shapeless,  her  very  heart 
stood  still  with  terror.  The  girl  sank  to  her  knees, 
trembling,  with  no  eyes  for  anything  except  that  mys- 
terious moving  object.  Misshapen,  huge,  looming  oddly 
through  the  gloom,  it  was  advancing  steadily  toward 
her  —  a  formless  something  which  neither  resembled 
man  nor  beast. 


(220) 


CHAPTER  XXII 

THE  BORDER  PATROL 

DEBORAH  rose  timidly  to  her  feet,  her  heart  be- 
ginning to  beat  once  more,  but  not  with  fear. 
Forth  from  the  darkness  came  the  low  whinney  of  a 
horse  in  sudden  recognition,  while  as  instantly  that 
horrid  shadow  took  both  shape  and  form.  It  was  a 
horse,  saddled,  bridled,  the  rein  trailing  along  the  sand, 
one  of  the  two  animals  stampeded  by  the  shot  which 
had  killed  Kelleen.  He  had  sensed  her  coming  in  the 
desert  night,  and  was  even  then  dumbly  welcoming  her. 
The  girl  went  forward  slowly,  doubtfully,  fearful  of 
again  startling  the  animal  into  flight,  but  he  remained 
quiet,  sniffing  at  her  as  she  drew  near,  and  she  finally  put 
hand  on  the  dangling  rein.  It  was  the  horse  Kelleen 
had  ridden,  and  Deborah  hid  her  face  in  his  mane,  and 
cried  softly,  while  he  turned  and  rubbed  his  nozzle 
against  her  shoulder  in  silent  greeting.  It  seemed  too 
good  to  be  true;  as  though  God  had  led  her  every  step 
of  the  way.  The  sudden  reaction  left  her  weak  as  a 
child. 

Yet  she  must  go  on;  there  was  more  cause  now  than 
ever  before  to  go  on  —  more  hope  of  success.    She  made 

(221) 


GIFT  OF  THE  DESERT 


the  effort  twice  before  she  succeeded  in  dragging  herself 
up  into  the  saddle,  but  the  horse  stood  patiently,  making 
no  attempt  to  break  away.  Once  there  the  girl's 
strength  came  back,  and  with  it,  her  determination.  All 
was  still,  deathly  still;  not  a  breath  of  air  touched  her 
cheek;  the  dense  night  shut  them  in.  Carefully  she 
located  the  only  star  she  knew;  to  her  mind  it  seemed 
utterly  wrong  in  its  position,  yet  she  was  faithful  to  it. 
Half  afraid,  yet  not  daring  to  venture  otherwise,  she 
drew  the  horse  about,  and  rode  south. 

The  night  seemed  endless,  the  black  desert  eternal. 
There  were  times  when  the  girl  lost  consciousness  of 
everything,  except  that  shining  North  Star  ever  at  her 
back.  It  was  her  one  guide  and  hope;  through  it  she 
retained  sanity  and  faith.  In  that  way  lay  Box  Canyon, 
and  those  waiting  troopers.  She  dare  not  ride  fast, 
knowing  not  what  pitfalls  were  ahead,  the  course  ir- 
regular, up  and  down.  The  horse  picked  his  way  in- 
telligently, the  reins  lying  loose,  except  as  she  occa- 
sionally held  him  inexorably  to  the  southward.  She 
swayed  wearily  in  the  saddle,  clinging  to  the  high  pom- 
mel for  support,  unable  to  see,  yet  aware  that  they 
crossed  shallow  ravines,  and  found  passage  occasionally 
along  ridges  of  outcropping  rock,  and  then  advanced 
more  easily  for  long  spaces  over  wide  expanses  of 
sand,  noiselessly  as  a  specter.     It  was  hard  to  keep 

(222) 


- 


THE  BORDER  PATROL 


awake,  to  concentrate,  to  remember  —  she  had  to  strug- 
gle to  realize  this  was  not  all  a  dream. 

Then,  after  seemingly  endless  hours,  the  dawn  came. 
Would  she  ever  again  forget  it?  She  hardly  knew  at 
first  what  it  was.  Riding  drearily  with  lowered  head, 
she  became  dimly  aware  of  a  change,  a  lightening  of 
the  gloom  about,  a  dull  grayness  tinging  faintly  the 
black  wall  of  the  surrounding  night.  Almost  as  she 
wondered  the  daylight  came,  wan  and  spectral  at  first, 
widening  her  vista  on  a  gray  circle  as  the  stars  slowly 
faded  from  out  a  multicolored  sky.  To  the  left  a 
brightening  white  light  shot  up  in  long  streamers,  touch- 
ing with  more  gaudy  tinges  the  edges  of  fleecy  clouds, 
while  in  the  other  direction  a  purple  haze  blended  with 
the  deeper  shadows  along  the  horizon.  It  was  the  com- 
ing of  the  sun,  rising  majestically  above  the  far-off  rim 
of  the  desert,  and  she  was  still  moving  southward; 
through  the  long  night  hours  she  had  kept  the  faith. 

Yet  there  was  little  of  hope,  of  encouragement,  in 
the  picture  unrolled  before  her.  Her  view  gradually 
spread  out  in  wider  and  wider  circle,  but  with  no  relief 
to  its  drear  sameness,  or  monotony.  Sand,  leagues  upon 
leagues  of  sand,  stretched  wherever  her  wearied  eyes 
turned,  leveled  by  the  wind,  or  cast  upward  in  rounded 
hillocks,  but  ever  gray,  depressing,  a  sea  of  desolation, 
dead,  unmovable,  extending  to  the  far  circle  of  the 

(223) 


GIFT  OF  THE  DESERT 


overshadowing  arch  of  sky.  It  was  all  lifeless,  not 
even  a  sagebush,  or  Spanish  bayonet  visible.  No 
animal  moved  amid  that  dreariness,  no  wing  of  bird 
cleaved  the  air  overhead.  The  great  plain  was  the 
very  personification  of  death,  and  the  girl's  heart  sank 
in  despair  as  the  intense  loneliness  gripped  her  soul. 
Where  was  the  end?  Was  there  an  end?  She  began 
to  realize  hunger  and  thirst;  to  dread  the  fierce  heat 
of  that  sun  once  it  reached  mid-sky,  its  rays  scorching 
the  hot  sands. 

Doubts  assailed  her.  Had  she  taken  the  right 
course?  Did  Kelleen  imply  that  Box  Canyon  lay  di- 
rectly south,  and  had  she  been  led  astray,  and  thus 
wandered  blindly  out  into  the  very  heart  of  the  desert? 
Could  she,  could  the  horse  live  through  such  a  day  of 
torture  as  that  rising  sun  promised?  The  animal 
plodded  on  grimly,  with  drooping  head,  unguided  now 
by  any  pressure  on  the  rein.  He  must  know  better  than 
she  the  route  —  some  instinct  surely  must  lead  him  to 
water,  if  any  there  was  in  all  that  wide  waste  of  sand  and 
sky.  Helpless,  hopeless,  the  girl  drooped  down  wearily 
in  the  saddle,  closing  her  eyes  to  the  desolation.  They 
plodded  on  drearily,  her  mind  a  chaos,  haunted  by  every 
memory  of  horror  arising  from  those  swift-occurring 
events  which  had  led  to  this  tragedy.  Her  forcible 
marriage  to  Bob  Meager,  the  bitter  hatred  his  touch 

(224) 


THE  BORDER  PATROL 


had  aroused,  his  drunken,  lustful  eyes,  the  blow  she 
struck  him,  with  murder  in  her  heart,  the  fleeing  like 
a  hunted  criminal,  desperately  seeking  escape.  Then 
the  coming  of  Kelleen  into  her  life,  strangely,  mysteri- 
ously weaving  about  her  a  web  of  fascination,  even  as 
they  rode  together  through  the  darkness.  She  had 
never  entirely  thrown  that  off,  the  odd  spell  of  his 
presence,  his  cool,  confident  words  —  she  felt  she  never 
would.  Even  when  she  questioned  him  the  most,  she 
still  secretly  believed;  and  now  that  he  was  actually 
dead,  not  so  much  as  the  flicker  of  a  doubt  remained. 

She  saw  again  that  dead  man  in  the  cave ;  experienced 
the  grip  of  those  savage  arms,  and  once  more,  in  heed- 
less terror,  fired  down  the  black  tunnel,  and  then 
struggled  upward  through  that  awful  hole  into  the  light 
of  day.  Then  all  that  followed,  followed  so  swiftly, 
was  but  a  jumble  of  events,  yet  each  distinct,  unfor- 
gettable, burned  on  her  soul.  The  talk  of  those  two 
men  in  the  growing  dusk,  the  certainty  of  criminal  con- 
spiracy in  which  they  were  both  concerned;  the  des- 
perate effort  at  escape;  the  willingness  to  die  on  the 
desert  rather  than  fall  again  into  their  hands ;  the  cap- 
ture by  Kelleen ;  his  words  of  faith,  confidence,  almost  of 
love,  restoring  her  belief  in  him  —  and  then  that  shot 
out  of  the  darkness  sending  him  whirling  headlong  to 
his  death.     True!  it  could  not  be  true!     It  must  be 

(225) 


GIFT  OF  THE  DESERT 


delirium,  a  wild  fiction  of  romance  raging  in  the  brain 
of  a  half-mad  dreamer.  Yet  this  was  the  desert — the 
desert !  She  lifted  her  eyes  to  look,  gazing  out  blindly 
over  the  dull  gray  expanse.  Then  she  suddenly  sat  up- 
right in  the  saddle,  shadowing  her  leveled  brows  with 
one  hand  as  she  stared  straight  ahead.  What  was  it 
over  yonder?  a  tree?  a  ridge  of  uplifted  rock?  Not 
much,  surely,  and  yet  everything  in  midst  of  that  soli- 
tude. Her  heart  beat  suddenly  with  hope.  Perhaps 
that  marked  the  end;  perhaps  that  was  where  the  trail 
ran — the  trail  to  Box  Canyon.    If  so,  God  was  good! 

The  tired  horse  lifted  his  head,  and  whinnied, 
breaking  into  a  slow  trot,  the  sand  crunching  under  his 
hoofs.  Deborah  was  wide  awake  now,  alert  and  ready. 
Yet  it  actually  was  a  tree,  and  the  tops  of  others  began 
to  show  beyond;  their  presence  promised  water,  grass, 
life;  that  horrid  desert  left  behind.  Yet  it  was  a  long, 
dreary  ride  of  an  hour  before  they  reached  there,  com- 
ing to  a  shallow  valley  through  which  trickled  a  mere 
rill,  rock  strewn,  and  almost  as  desolate  as  had  been 
the  desert  itself,  but  with  here  and  there  a  patch  of 
grass  visible,  and  a  few  scattered,  wind-racked  trees. 
It  was  a  scene  scarcely  less  dreary  than  the  upper  plain, 
yet  to  Deborah,  and  her  horse,  was  most  welcome. 

The  latter  came  down  the  slanting  bank  gingerly, 
and  made  for  the  nearest  water  hole,  the  girl  slipping 

(226) 


THE  BORDER  PATROL 


quickly  from  the  saddle,  and  seeking  to  quench  her 
thirst  farther  up  stream.  The  water,  slightly  brackish, 
but  still  fairly  clear  and  pure,  brought  new  life,  the  an- 
imal wandering  about  in  his  fresh  environment,  nibbling 
contentedly  at  the  scattered  tufts  of  grass,  while 
Deborah  studied  her  surroundings  with  awakened  in- 
terest. Old  Tom  Meager,  in  their  rides  together,  had 
taught  her  some  of  the  fundamentals  of  plainscraft, 
how  to  observe  this  thing,  and  that,  when  alone  in  the 
wilds.  Now  she  applied  these  lessons  eagerly,  searching 
for  some  evidence  of  that  trail  which  she  felt  convinced 
must  run  up  this  lonely  valley.  Nothing  could  be  better 
adapted  to  the  purpose  of  these  outlaws  than  the  course 
of  this  desolate  desert  stream,  a  mere  thread  extending 
through  leagues  of  sand,  lying  sufficiently  below  the 
level  to  conceal  their  movements,  and  yet  furnishing 
water  for  their  stock.  In  spite  of  its  windings,  the  trend 
of  the  valley  was  clearly  from  south  to  north,  and 
doubtless  for  years,  perhaps  for  centuries,  way  back  in 
the  old  Spanish  days,  it  might  have  been  the  natural 
highway  for  desperate  riders  across  the  border  — 
rustlers,  cattle  thieves,  smugglers,  and  runners  of  con- 
traband. Surely  they  must  have  left  some  trail  behind. 
But  if  so  no  trace  remained  along  the  western  shore. 
Convinced  of  this  Deborah,  leading  her  horse,  crossed 
the  narrow  stream,  stepping  from  rock  to  rock,  and 

(227) 


GIFT  OF  THE  DESERT 


clambering  up  the  level  plateau  on  the  other  side.  Even 
here  little  was  visible,  and  she  would  have  overlooked 
even  these  signs  but  for  old  Tom's  training.  Whatever 
had  been  the  story  of  the  long  past,  this  isolated  trail 
up  the  valley  could  not  have  been  used  extensively  of 
late  —  surely  no  cattle  had  been  driven  over  it  for  a 
year,  at  least,  a  tough,  wiry  grass  covering  every  open 
spot.  Yet  evidence  was  found  —  the  scattered,  dead 
ashes  of  a  fire;  the  mark  of  a  shod  horse's  hoof,  an 
open  sheaf  knife,  the  blade  not  yet  rusted  from  ex- 
posure, and  a  half-dozen  emptied  cartridge  shells. 
Later,  up  stream  a  few  rods,  she  found  where  a  dozen 
horses  had  been  tied  to  a  picket  rope,  stamping  their 
hoofs  into  the  soft  sod.  But  beyond  this  point  the  soil 
ceased,  and,  whatever  trail  there  was  vanished  on  a 
surface  of  hard  rock  which  left  no  trace.  Nevertheless 
she  mounted  once  more,  and  rode  on,  still  with  her 
course  to  the  south. 

Two  hours  later  the  valley  had  contracted  into  a 
mere  chasm  running  between  rock  walls,  these  con- 
stantly increasing  in  height  on  either  side  of  the  little 
stream.  Yet  the  trail  followed  became  plainer  de- 
fined, as  along  here  passing  caravans  had  been  com- 
pelled to  proceed  in  single  file,  wearing  a  well-marked 
depression  in  the  stone.  Thousands  of  hoofs  must  have 
done  that,  and  the  girl's  imagination  could  but  picture 

(228) 


THE  BORDER  PATROL 


the  scenes  —  the  dark  shadows  of  the  gorge,  the  gloomy 
border  desolation,  the  slow-moving  cattle  goaded  for- 
ward by  men  on  horseback,  Mexican  raiders,  or  rustlers 
from  the  north,  outlaws  of  all  degrees;  or  perhaps  a 
train  of  burros,  laden  with  contraband,  or  ore,  armed, 
desperate  men  guarding  them  through  the  black  night 
passage.  Then  the  mirage  faded  from  her  mind  in 
sheer  weariness  of  brain  and  body. 

How  terribly  exhausted  she  was,  reeling  in  the  saddle 
from  faintness.  She  ached  from  head  to  foot,  and  she 
felt  strangely  dizzy.  Twice  she  dismounted  to  bathe 
her  face  in  the  running  water,  but  had  found  it  so  dif- 
ficult to  climb  up  into  the  saddle  again,  she  dare  not 
venture  a  third  time.  She  could  only  cling  tight  to  the 
pommel,  with  eyes  closed,  and  let  the  horse  pick  his 
own  way  along  the  outlaw  trail.  Box  Canyon !  Could 
this  be  Box  Canyon?  She  opened  her  eyes  to  look  up, 
the  great  cliffs  towering  so  high  above  she  could  scarcely 
gain  glimpse  of  a  ribbon  of  blue  sky.  It  was  like  twi- 
light where  she  rode,  the  walls  purplish  blue,  nothing 
clearly  visible  a  dozen  yards  ahead.  She  shuddered  at 
the  dreary  loneliness,  the  awful  silence.  If  this  was 
Box  Canyon,  then  she  had  come  too  late  —  there  were 
no  soldiers  there. 

She  closed  her  eyes  again,  struggling  for  control,  for 
courage,  clutching  at  the  pommel  to  hold  herself  up- 

(229) 


GIFT  OF  THE  DESERT 


right.  Then  the  horse  stopped  as  though  gripped  by  a 
hand,  and  a  voice  said  shortly. 

"  Gee !  but  it's  a  woman.  Say,  wake  up,  sister,  and 
tell  us  what  yer'  doin,  here." 

She  stared  at  him  dumbly,  a  boy  in  khaki,  his  hand 
grasping  her  bridle  rein,  a  short  rifle  in  the  hollow  of 
his  other  arm,  his  face  featuring  astonishment. 

"Asleep,  was  yer'  ?    Hell  of  a  place  ter  sleep." 

"Are  you  a  soldier?"  she  asked,  struggling  with  her 
dizziness,  "a  cavalryman?" 

M  Sure  —  U.  S.  You're  Yank  too,  ain't  yer?  That's 
^vhat  bothers  me;  now  if  yer  was  Mex,  I'd  know  what 
to  do." 

"What?" 

"Hustle  yer  on  to  the  Lieut;  he  an'  the  rest  of  'em 
are  back  there." 

"Yes,  yes,  I  know,"  she  exclaimed  excitedly.  "You 
are  here  to  intercept  gun-runners  across  the  line.  I  — 
I  have  been  hunting  for  you  all  night.  He  —  he  is 
dead— killed." 

"Dead!    Who's  dead?" 

"  Captain  Kelleen." 

She  reeled  in  the  saddle,  everything  black  before  her. 
The  trooper  sprang  and  caught  her  as  she  fell. 


(230) 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

"alvara's  lost  mine  " 

KELLEEN  lay  breathless  on  his  back,  staring  up 
uncomprehendingly  through  the  tangled  branches 
of  a  tree.  He  was  bruised  and  dazed,  scarcely  certain 
whether  he  was  dead  or  alive,  yet  dimly  aware  of  what 
had  actually  occurred.  It  all  came  back  clearer,  more 
definite,  as  the  mist  left  his  brain,  but  he  felt  no  desire 
to  move,  to  make  any  physical  effort.  Every  muscle  of 
his  body  ached,  and  he  felt  sick,  inert,  helpless.  The 
red  reflection  of  the  fire  yet  clung  to  the  face  of  the 
overhanging  cliff;  he  could  trace  it  clearly  enough 
through  those  tree  branches,  and  he  shuddered  at  the 
distance  from  where  he  lay  and  the  rim.  He  had  fallen 
from  there,  no  doubt  of  that;  his  brain  grasped  the 
fact,  yet  without  fully  comprehending  all  that  had  oc- 
curred. He  remembered  the  spit  of  flame  out  of  the 
darkness,  the  report,  the  bullet  striking  him,  and  the 
horror  of  that  awful  fall,  as  he  grasped  madly  at  the  air. 
And  what  then?  Did  he  lose  consciousness?  Did  the 
shock  numb  his  brain  ?  He  must  have  crashed  headlong 
through  those  tree  limbs,  his  progress  stopped  and  di- 
verted, until,  by  some  fate,  his  bruised  and  battered 

(231) 


GIFT  OF  THE  DESERT 


body  had  been  flung  here,  like  a  bit  of  driftwood  on  the 
beach. 

He  extended  his  arms,  and  felt  about  to  be  sure  — 
yes,  he  lay  there  on  a  shelf  of  earth,  out  of  which  that 
tree  grew;  the  gnarled  trunk  was  within  reach  of  his 
hand,  and  another  tree,  a  smaller  one,  was  at  the  left. 
It  was  so  dark  there  he  could  see  little,  yet  that  fire  was 
still  below,  and,  if  he  should  roll  off,  he  would  have  an- 
other sheer  drop,  God  knew  how  far.  He  dare  make 
no  effort  to  turn  over.  How  badly  was  he  hurt?  He 
felt  cold  perspiration  bead  his  face,  but  when  he  tested 
his  limbs  they  responded,  not  without  pain  to  be  sure, 
yet  there  were  evidently  no  bones  broken.  The  knowl- 
edge heartened  him  instantly.  But  he  had  been  shot. 
He  recalled  that  clearly  —  the  sickening  sensation  as  the 
ball  struck,  the  very  force  of  impact  hurling  him  over. 
It  was  his  left  side;  it  must  have  been  his  left  side,  yet 
he  was  conscious  of  no  special  pain  there  —  perhaps 
the  flesh  was  numbed  by  the  shock.  He  dreaded  to 
learn  the  truth,  yet  forced  himself  partially  to  sit  up, 
and  examine.  There  was  a  hole  in  the  coat,  but  none  in 
the  shirt  beneath;  the  flesh  was  untorn,  but  painful  to 
the  touch,  and  decidedly  swollen.  The  bullet  had 
struck  him,  but  failed  to  penetrate;  had  been  deflected 
by  something  —  his  watch!  Surely;  he  carried  it  there 
in  his  upper  coat  pocket.    His  fingers  drew  the  wreck 

(232) 


'ALVARA'S  LOST  MINE 


forth,  and  the  bullet  dropped  into  his  lap ;  he  picked  it 
up  —  caliber  .44 —  with  a  queer  feeling  of  horror, 
and  then  placed  it  in  a  pocket.  The  ruins  of  the  watch 
smashed  beyond  repair  he  flung  away.  For  the  mo- 
ment he  was  dazed,  what  it  all  meant  remained  vague 
and  confused. 

Kelleen  began  to  understand,  and  his  mind  to  func- 
tion. He  was  not  killed,  not  even  seriously  hurt.  He 
had  been  almost  miraculously  saved;  but  now  he  must 
serve  himself.  He  harbored  no  doubt  as  to  who  had 
shot  him,  or  why.  The  very  manner  in  which  it  had 
been  done,  out  of  the  concealment  of  the  night,  revealed 
the  method  of  Bob  Meager.  It  was  his  fashion,  his 
style;  the  way  of  a  coward  who  never  met  his  enemies 
face  to  face.  Yet  why  should  the  fellow  have  held  him 
as  an  enemy?  The  only  answer  Kelleen  could  find  to 
this  query  was  Deborah.  The  fellow  must  have  seen 
and  recognized  the  girl  as  she  flashed  past  him  on 
the  stolen  horse;  he  must  have  followed  bent  on  re- 
venge, discovered  them  together,  and  in  sudden  anger 
fired  the  shot.  There  was  no  other  satisfactory  explana- 
tion. Bob  had  not  previously  known  the  woman  had 
left  the  ranch;  he  believed  her  still  there,  hidden  in 
his  stepmother's  room,  his  helpless  victim  on  his  return. 
Otherwise  the  man  had  nothing  against  Kelleen,  had 
no  suspicions  of  him,  except  possibly  a  desire  that  he 

(233) 


GIFT  OF  THE  DESERT 


keep  out  of  this  particular  affair.  That  surely  was  not 
sufficient  to  justify  an  attempt  at  cold-blooded  murder. 
No,  it  must  be  the  girl. 

And  what  had  become  of  her  ?  Kelleen  had  no  recol- 
lection of  a  second  shot,  so  it  was  altogether  probable 
she  had  been  spared,  and  was  again  a  prisoner  in  the 
hands  of  her  brutal  husband.  If  so,  no  greater  service 
could  be  rendered  the  girl  than  an  exposure  of  Bob 
Meager's  rascality.  With  the  fellow  once  safely  in 
the  hands  of  the  law  she  would  obtain  release,  and  the 
opportunity  of  escape  if  she  so  desired.  And  he  felt  no 
doubt  as  to  her  desire.  The  man  had  taken  her  by 
force;  her  earlier  dislike  had  been  changed  into  hatred 
—  and  —  and — since  then  another  impelling  force 
might  have  come  into  her  life.  Kelleen  smiled,  sitting 
up  in  the  darkness,  his  mind  dwelling  over  the  memory 
of  those  hours  they  had  passed  together.  He  realized 
suddenly  how  much  he  already  cared  for  her,  how 
deeply  her  womanliness  had  impressed  him;  what  it 
would  mean  if  she  should  turn  back  to  Bob  Meager. 

The  very  thought  of  such  a  possibility  nerved  him  to 
action,  to  forgetfulness  of  his  bruises.  He  had  seen 
that  in  the  depths  of  her  eyes  he  would  never  forget; 
he  would  live  to  read  that  message  again.  The  memory 
was  inspiration,  and  hope.  But  where  could  he  turn? 
Where  could  he  go?    He  was  one  man  pitted  against 

(234) 


ALVARA'S  LOST  MINE 


twenty  at  least,  his  only  advantage  being  Meager's  be- 
lief that  he  was  dead,  and  safely  out  of  the  way.  He 
must  remain  unseen,  undiscovered,  until  he  learned  the 
truth.  His  mind  grasped  the  situation  swiftly,  as  he 
planned  his  own  course  of  action.  There  was  no  rea- 
son why  Casebeer's  outfit  should  remain  in  the  valley; 
they  had  already  unloaded,  and  stored  away  out  of  sight 
whatever  they  had  to  transport.  Their  whole  interest 
must  be  to  get  safely  away  on  the  back  trail  before  day- 
light. Already  the  fire  had  died  down  into  mere  embers, 
and,  he  believed,  a  part  at  least  of  the  pack  train  had 
departed.  After  they  all  had  gone  only  Meager,  and 
his  small  party,  would  be  left  behind.  How  many  there 
might  be  of  these  Kelleen  had  no  means  of  knowing, 
yet  it  was  scarcely  probable  many  were  in  the  secret  of 
what  was  going  on  —  Meager  himself,  Sanchez,  and 
one  or  two  others  perhaps;  not  enough  to  prove  par- 
ticularly dangerous,  if  they  did  not  even  suspect  his  be- 
ing alive.  Tomorrow  surely  that  squad  of  cavalrymen 
must  appear  from  Box  Canyon;  they  would  scout  up 
this  way  if  nothing  occurred  to  detain  them.  Those 
were  their  orders,  and,  if  they  followed  the  trail,  they 
could  scarcely  fail  to  reach  this  hole  in  the  desert.  All 
he  needed  to  do  in  the  meanwhile  was  to  discover  ex- 
actly what  this  gang  was  up  to,  and  then  wait. 

To  his  mind  the  key  of  the  whole  mystery  must  lie 
(235) 


GIFT  OF  THE  DESERT 


in  that  cave  tunnel  described  by  Deborah.  If  he  could 
once  probe  into  its  secret  the  whole  strange  case 
would  be  solved.  Meager  had  endeavored  vainly  to 
communicate  with  whoever  was  on  guard  below,  and 
failed.  Perhaps  the  fellow  was  lying  there  in  the  dark- 
ness dead,  struck  by  that  wild  bullet  the  girl  had  fired. 
Bob  had  no  time  to  investigate  then,  to  learn  the  truth 
—  he  had  been  led  out  into  the  desert  in  his  chase  after 
the  flying  horse.  Even  now  he  might  be  delayed  by  his 
prisoner;  by  his  final  settlement  with  Casebeer;  by  the 
urgent  necessity  of  seeing  that  everything  was  carefully 
stored,  and  out  of  sight,  in  that  hut  yonder.  If  any  in- 
vestigation was  to  be  made,  it  must  be  attempted  now — 
he  would  take  the  chance. 

To  decide  with  Kelleen  was  to  act  The  peril  of  the 
adventure  scarcely  occurred  to  him;  his  life  had  long 
before  inured  him  to  danger.  All  he  sought  was  op- 
portunity. Slowly,  cautiously,  keeping  well  back  in 
the  shadow,  he  lowered  his  body  down  the  face  of  the 
cliff,  taking  advantage  of  every  irregularity,  outcropping 
rocks  giving  him  foot  and  handhold,  until  he  finally 
reached  the  firm  turf  below.  As  he  glanced  back  over 
his  course,  marking  the  high  outline  of  the  crest  against 
the  lighter  sky  above,  the  memory  of  that  awful  plunge 
over  the  edge,  left  him  for  an  instant  sick  and  nerveless. 
Then  he  drove  the  recollection  from  him  with  a  bitter 

(236) 


'ALVARA'S  LOST  MINE 


laugh.  What  odds !  he  was  alive ;  he  would  pay  the  debt. 
He  could  not  stand  there  like  a  frightened  child  in  the 
dark.  He  moved  on  in  the  depth  of  the  cliff  shadow 
with  eyes  searching  the  gloom,  and  ears  listening  for  any 
sound. 

In  that  darkness  he  scarcely  realized  where  he  was, 
yet,  when  he  came  to  it,  experienced  no  difficulty  in 
recognizing  the  mound  on  which  he  and  Deborah  had 
taken  breakfast  together.  He  climbed  the  sloping  side 
cautiously  on  hands  and  knees,  his  revolver  drawn,  and 
clenched  in  nerveless  fingers.  The  man  was  cool  now, 
and  ready,  advancing  steadily  through  the  maze  of 
rocks  strewing  the  surface,  until  he  felt  out  the  slight 
evidences  of  a  trail.  Here  was  where  Deborah  must 
have  attempted  her  retreat,  as  it  skirted  the  face  of  the 
cliff,  which  bulged  out  above  him.  The  front  was  draped 
with  clinging  vines,  while  below  he  found  a  tangle  of 
bushes,  almost  impenetrable.  Kelleen  crept  along  these, 
vainly  seeking  some  opening,  and,  finally,  in  despair, 
pressed  them  aside,  crawling  noiselessly  into  the  dark 
covert,  seeking  that  opening  in  the  rock  which  must  be 
hidden  somewhere  beyond.  Its  discovery  eluded  him, 
and  it  was  not  until  he  ventured  to  stand  erect,  feeling 
above  the  lower  barrier  of  rock,  that  he  really  convinced 
himself  of  its  existence.  He  stood  hesitatingly,  his 
heart  thumping  from  excitement.    There  was  no  sound 

(237) 


GIFT  OF  THE  DESERT 


of  movement  within  —  only  profound  silence,  and  im- 
penetrable darkness.  Yet  surely  this  could  be  no 
storage  house,  no  mere  receptacle  for  stolen  goods  as 
he  previously  had  imagined.  There  was  no  beaten  trail 
leading  to  it;  no  dead,  trampled  vines,  no  pathway 
opening  through  the  shrubs.  The  secret  of  the  place 
remained  hidden,  its  shield  undisturbed.  Whoever 
came  here  must  have  weaved  their  way  as  carefully  as 
he  had,  concealing  all  evidence  of  passage,  leaving  no 
trail  behind. 

What  then  did  that  darkness  conceal?  What  did  it 
really  mean?  Crime,  beyond  a  doubt — yet  of  what 
nature,  what  degree?  He  could  only  learn  within. 
With  teeth  clenched,  and  automatic  ready,  Kelleen 
drew  himself  up  to  the  top  of  the  barrier  rock,  lay 
there  flat  for  a  moment,  peering  into  the  blackness,  and 
then  slowly  lowered  his  feet  to  the  surface  below, 
groping  blindly  about  with  extended  hand,  which 
touched  nothing.  It  was  a  ghastly  place  in  which  he 
stood  with  back  to  the  wall  staring  into  the  intense 
darkness.  He  had  no  conception  of  what  lurked  be- 
hind that  black,  impenetrable  curtain — whatperil,  what 
surprise.  Somewhere  within  there  lay  a  dead  man,  per- 
haps two;  and,  quite  possibly,  others  not  dead,  but 
desperate  and  murderous,  waited  him  along  the  grim 
passage.     Perhaps  they  already  knew  of  his  entrance, 

(238) 


'ALVARA'S  LOST  MINE 


and  crouched  there  in  readiness  to  strike.  He  must  ac- 
cept the  chance  and  go  on. 

In  spite  of  the  shrinking  of  his  flesh,  Kelleen  began  to 
advance,  feeling  with  his  feet,  and  keeping  one  hand 
against  the  rough  side  wall.  It  was  a  tunnel  beyond  all 
doubt,  leading  at  first  straight  into  the  cliff,  the  sides 
chipped  and  irregular,  leaving  to  the  touch  of  his  fin- 
gers, the  ridge  marks  of  a  pick.  Men  had  toiled  here, 
not  nature,  and  had  plainly  left  their  handiwork. 
When?  how  long  ago?  what  had  become  of  them? 
"Alvara's  Lost  Mine!"  The  words  seemed  to  burn 
themselves  on  his  mind,  and  before  him  arose  a  vision  of 
the  old  Spaniard  working  there  alone  in  the  long  years 
ago.  Could  it  be  possible?  After  all  this  time  had  he 
actually  rediscovered  that  ancient  storehouse  of  fab- 
ulous wealth,  that  golden  treasury  of  which  all  northern 
Mexico  had  dreamed ?  And  what  of  Alvara  ?  He  had 
disappeared  men  said;  died  in  the  heart  of  the  desert; 
went  forth  never  to  return.  Had  he  met  that  mysterious 
death  here  in  this  black  hole,  surrounded  by  his  golden 
treasure?  Did  he  lie  there  in  loneliness  through  the 
long  years  since?  and  was  he  there  still  on  guard  over 
his  treasure? 

Kelleen  stopped,  holding  his  breath,  conscious  of  the 
perspiration  beading  his  face.  Was  the  place  ac- 
cursed?   Did  Death  lurk  there  mockingly,  eager  for 

(239) 


GIFT  OF  THE  DESERT 


another  victim  ?  He  cast  aside  the  thought  with  a  ges- 
ture of  bitter  scorn.  All  image  of  the  supernatural  left 
him,  and  in  its  place  came  men.  What  was  Meager, 
and  his  outfit  doing  here  ?  That  was  what  he  must  face 
and  learn  —  not  how  Alvara  died.  He  went  on,  cau- 
tiously, blindly,  the  darkness  closing  behind.  God !  how 
still  it  was !  Was  that  a  stealthy  movement  off  there  to 
the  left?  The  man  wheeled  about,  revolver  swung  up, 
and  stood  poised  and  breathless.  Straight  into  his  eyes 
leaped  a  blinding  burst  of  flame. 


(240) 


CHAPTER  XXIV 

A  DUEL  IN  THE  DARK 

KELLEEN  staggered  backward,  yet  instinctively 
fired  at  the  black,  almost  shapeless,  shadow,  re- 
vealed an  instant  in  the  flame.  The  speeding  bullet  had 
missed  him  by  a  hair's  breadth,  yet  in  the  second  of 
startled  surprise  he  retained  no  power  of  action.  He 
had  seen  the  man  crouched  against  the  farther  wall,  a 
mere  black  blot,  almost  unrecognizable.  Then  that 
awful  darkness  again,  and  silence.  With  his  first  return 
of  strength  he  stepped  swiftly  to  one  side,  stooping  low, 
and  listening  for  the  slightest  movement.  His  heart 
almost  ceased  to  beat. 

Somewhere  within  that  impenetrable  curtain  the  fel- 
low waited,  listening  eagerly,  probably  uncertain  still  as 
to  the  effect  of  his  shot.  Kelleen  was  not  sure  of  his 
position,  yet  somewhere,  almost  within  arm's  length, 
murderous  and  determined,  a  ready  weapon  in  his 
hands,  the  man  was  endeavoring  to  locate  him,  with  a 
desire  to  kill.  It  was  to  be  a  duel  to  the  death  in  the 
dark.  Both  would  never  leave  that  tunnel  alive ;  there 
was  no  way  of  getting  out,  no  opportunity  for  escape. 
Any  attempt  would  only  reveal  the  position,  and  invite 

(241) 


GIFT  OF  THE  DESERT 


a  swift  shot.  But  was  the  man  alone?  What  other  an- 
tagonists lurked  in  the  blackness?  If  there  was  but 
one,  then  they  stood  on  equal  ground  —  both  armed, 
both  blinded.  He  must  accept  the  chance.  Slowly, 
cautiously,  not  making  the  slightest  sound,  he  moved 
stealthily  in  toward  that  left-hand  wall  near  which  he 
had  perceived  the  dim  figure.  He  touched  the  rock  with 
outstretched  hand,  and  stopped  in  dread  uncertainty. 
Out  of  the  void  came  nothing  to  guide  him. 

He  waited  a  minute,  two  minutes  —  it  seemed  an 
age  —  leaning  forward,  every  nerve  tense,  his  very 
breath  suspended,  nervous  finger  on  the  trigger.  God! 
the  fellow  could  not  long  remain  motionless  where  he 
was ;  he  would  never  dare.  Unless  that  chance  shot  had 
gone  home?  The  mere  suggestion  leaping  into  the 
brain  brought  to  the  hunted  man  a  flash  of  courage.  It 
might  be,  dim  as  his  mark  had  been,  hurriedly  as  he 
had  fired,  the  chance  shot  might  have  told,  leaving  the 
fellow  dead  on  the  rock  floor.  He  had  heard  no  sound, 
no  groan,  no  muffled  fall,  yet  men  sometimes  died 
silently,  instantly — there  was  a  hope,  a  possibility. 

He  could  not  stand  there  cramped,  with  poised 
muscles,  waiting  for  nothing,  staring  helplessly  about 
into  that  blackness.  He  must  know,  act,  learn  the  truth 
at  whatever  cost.  He  could  bear  that  strain  no  longer. 
He  advanced  an  inch  at  a  time,  feeling  forward  with 

(242) 


A  DUEL  IN  THE  DARK 


groping  foot,  still  obsessed  by  the  idea  that  thus  he 
might  encounter  an  outstretched  body  on  the  floor.  He 
had  gone  a  foot,  two  feet,  three;  then,  suddenly  his 
foot  dislodged  a  pebble,  which  grated  sharply  in  the 
intense  stillness.  Instantly  the  tunnel  flamed  again;  he 
felt  a  sting  in  his  shoulder,  the  impact  driving  him  flat 
against  the  side  wall — but  he  saw  his  man,  and  was 
ready.  Firing  once  he  leaped  forward,  grappling  for 
the  dim  shadow  as  the  darkness  closed  them  in  again. 

Kelleen's  clutching  fingers  got  grasp  on  an  arm, 
which  tore  itself  free.  The  butt  of  a  rifle,  wielded 
savagely,  crunched  into  his  chest,  but  the  fellow 
stumbled  as  he  struck  the  blow,  and  Kelleen's  hand 
found  grip  once  more  in  a  mass  of  long  hair.  From 
then  on  it  was  a  wild,  blind  struggle,  silent,  merciless, 
brutal,  in  which  neither  man  gave,  nor  asked,  quarter, 
instinctively  realizing  it  was  to  the  death.  Kelleen's 
weapon  was  crushed  out  of  his  hand  against  the  wall, 
his  knuckles  dripping  blood,  and  he  heard  his  antag- 
onist's rifle  crash  to  the  floor  the  first  minute  of  struggle. 
They  closed  desperately  with  bare  hands,  unable  to 
break  away,  Kelleen's  fingers  clinched  in  the  long 
beard,  the  other  driving  his  fist  again  and  again  into  his 
face  in  mad  effort  to  make  him  release  the  grip. 

They  swayed  back  and  forth,  tripping  over  a  pile  of 
debris,  crashing  against  the  wall,  exerting  every  ounce 

(243) 


GIFT  OF  THE  DESERT 


of  strength,  breathing  in  gasps,  but  speechless.  Kelleen 
lowered  his  head,  thrusting  it  under  his  opponent's  up- 
lifted chin,  and  with  one  free  hand  struck  with  all  the 
power  he  possessed.  As  he  did  so  iron  arms  crushed 
him  —  such  arms  as  he  had  never  felt,  like  bars  of  steel 
—  and  the  lunging  body  of  the  man  seemed  to  force  him 
irresistibly  backward.  Inch  by  inch  he  had  to  give, 
fighting  desperately,  hopelessly,  to  retain  his  feet;  then 
suddenly  crashed  over  into  the  darkness,  the  other  fall- 
ing full  upon  him,  now  gripping  with  one  hand  at  his 
exposed  throat,  the  other  fumbling  at  his  waist.  The 
knife  !  the  knife !  It  must  be  the  knife  the  fellow  sought. 
What  came  next  Kelleen  never  knew.  He  fought  in 
delirium,  in  unconsciousness,  the  very  breath  crushed 
out  of  him,  unable  to  break  that  strangle  hold,  or  twist 
his  body  from  underneath.  He  knew  he  touched  the 
knife  handle ;  that  he  reached  it  first,  struggling  to  re- 
tain his  grasp  beneath  the  fierce  pressure  of  the  other's 
gripping  fingers.  In  some  way  he  must  have  turned 
partly,  squirming  on  one  side,  so  as  to  jam  the  fellow's 
hand  between  his  hip  and  the  hard  stone  floor.  In  that 
instant  he  had  jerked  the  blade  free,  and  slashed 
viciously  at  the  huge  bulk  above  him.  Again  and  again 
he  drove  in  the  steel,  knowing  not  where  he  struck,  but 
feeling  a  wild  exultation  as  the  limbs  gripping  him  re- 
laxed, and  hot  blood  spurted  on  his  hand.    There  was 

(244) 


A  DUEL  IN  THE  DARK 


no  moan,  no  outcry,  but  at  last  the  man  rolled  over  side- 
wise,  and  lay  still. 

With  the  instant  all  strength  left  Kelleen.  The  knife 
dropped  from  his  fingers,  and  he  rested  motionless, 
scarcely  breathing,  his  eyes  staring  up  into  the  dark. 
He  had  won;  he  was  not  seriously  hurt,  yet  for  the 
moment  could  not  even  realize  his  victory.  It  had  come 
so  suddenly,  so  unexpectedly  he  could  not  credit  the 
truth.  He  had  been  crushed  helplessly,  gripped  in  those 
merciless  arms,  smothered  by  that  body,  his  throat  held 
in  a  vise.  Every  hope  had  left  him,  and  then  —  this 
silence,  this  panting  for  breath,  this  slowly  returning 
consciousness.  Yet  gradually  he  knew;  the  knife,  he 
had  wielded  —  the  knife  —  he  had  killed  the  man. 
Whoever  he  was  he  had  killed  him ;  he  lay  there  now  be- 
side him  in  the  dark  —  dead.  The  very  horror  of  it 
started  anew  the  blood  in  his  veins,  that  dead  man  lying 
there,  motionless,  becoming  cold,  with  open  eyes  staring 
up  at  the  tunnel  roof.  And  he  had  killed  him  —  killed 
him  with  the  knife.  Yet  it  had  been  a  fair  fight,  man  to 
man,  and  one  of  them  had  to  die.  He  could  breathe 
better  now,  and  he  sat  up,  trembling  and  shrinking  back 
from  contact  with  the  dead  body.  He  could  not  see 
it,  but  he  knew  it  was  there. 

Then  the  doubt,  the  fear,  the  questioning  horror 
passed  away.    He  laughed  at  himself  for  having  been 

(245) 


GIFT  OF  THE  DESERT 


so  unnerved.  He  had  seen  dead  men  before,  and  this 
had  been  a  fair  fight.  His  groping  hand  touched  his 
own  revolver,  and  he  thrust  it  back  into  the  sheaf  at 
his  waist  mechanically,  yet  with  a  sudden  sense  of  relief. 
Surely  there  were  no  others  in  the  place;  they  would 
have  heard  the  firing,  the  sound  of  struggle.  He  was 
safe  enough  then  —  for  the  present;  but  he  must  make 
sure.  He  hesitated  for  some  time,  his  nerves  shattered 
and  failing  to  respond  to  his  will.  The  silence  and  dark- 
ness made  it  hard  to  get  a  grip  on  himself — he  had  a 
sense  of  being  buried  alive  there  with  a  corpse;  of  being 
himself  half  paralyzed.  Yet  finally  the  brain  forced 
the  trembling  hands  to  action.  He  must  see  the  face  of 
the  man  he  had  fought  and  gain  one  glimpse,  at  least,  of 
his  surroundings. 

Kelleen  struck  a  match  which  gave  forth  at  first  a 
dim,  spectral  light  between  his  trembling  fingers,  then 
glowed  into  a  sudden  flame.  He  thrust  it  forward  over 
the  body  of  the  dead  man,  and  stared  down  at  the  up- 
turned face.  For  a  moment  not  a  muscle  relaxed,  his 
form  that  of  a  statue,  as  his  eyes  searched  those  ghastly 
features.  Where  had  he  seen  the  man  before?  that 
hairy  face?  those  long,  misshapen  arms?  Dead!  of 
course  he  was  dead — but  who  was  he?  Somewhere  in 
his  memory,  dim,  indistinct,  clung  a  recollection  which 
would  not  become  wholly  clear.    The  match  flickered, 

(246) 


A  DUEL  IN  THE  DARK 


throwing  weird  shadows,  the  flame  creeping  slowly  up 
the  splinter  of  wood  until  it  burned  his  hand.  He  cast 
it  from  him,  and  crouched  there  again  in  pitch  blackness. 
Then  the  vision  came,  his  lips  uttering  a  startled  ex- 
clamation. 

"By  God!  I  know  now;  it's  Manuel  Gomez!  It's 
the  ape-man ! " 

Manuel  Gomez  —  the  murderer,  the  outlaw,  the 
dread  scourge  of  northern  Mexico,  that  bloodthirsty 
wretch,  whose  crimes  had  made  him  an  object  of  de- 
testation on  both  sides  of  the  line  for  years.  Manuel 
Gomez,  the  killer  of  women  and  children,  the  destroyer 
of  towns,  raider,  thief,  bandit,  and  insurrecto  —  the 
ape-man !  Kelleen  had  never  seen  him  before,  but  he 
knew;  there  could  be  no  other  like  that,  and  every  story 
he  previously  had  heard  of  the  fellow  came  trooping 
back  to  his  mind  in  vivid  memory — cruel,  remorseless, 
without  mercy,  hunted  like  a  wild  beast,  yet  ever  escap- 
ing the  toils,  he  had  left  a  trail  of  blood  over  all  that 
land.  Well,  he  was  dead  now !  Yet  how  came  he  to  be 
there?  Was  this  his  hiding  place?  or  was  the  man 
there  for  some  new  crime?  If  so — what?  And  Bob 
Meager?  Juan  Sanchez?  were  they  also  sharers  in  his 
villainy?  Could  they  be  members  of  this  fiend's  gang? 
Was  it  from  here  he  led  his  hellhounds  over  the  desert 
and  plain? 

(247) 


GIFT  OF  THE  DESERT 


The  recurrence  of  these  names  instantly  brought  back 
to  Kelleen  a  realization  of  his  own  peril.  Gomez  was 
dead,  killed  by  his  hand.  Unwittingly,  unknowingly, 
there  in  the  dark,  in  desperate  combat,  he  had  avenged  a 
hundred  murders  by  the  thrust  of  a  knife.  But  these 
others  —  they  were  still  alive;  they  would  surely  come. 
There  could  be  no  doubt  of  that.  All  that  Deborah  had 
told  flashed  across  his  mind  —  her  encounter  with  this 
same  Mexican  ruffian  —  why  she  had  even  described  the 
fellow's  long,  apelike  arms,  but  he  never  once  had 
thought  of  Gomez  —  of  her  creeping  onward  along  the 
tunnel;  the  sudden  change  in  its  direction,  and  her 
stumbling  over  a  dead  body  in  the  dark.  He  recalled 
the  story  of  her  escape,  creeping  up  that  narrow  passage, 
through  which  she  could  barely  squeeze  her  slender 
body;  the  firing  after  her  from  below,  and  her  aimless 
shot  sent  in  return;  then  the  desperate  struggle  which 
ended  on  the  desert  above.  And  what  then?  Meager, 
Bob  Meager,  going  straight  to  that  same  hole  and  call- 
ing down  for  Manuel  —  using  his  very  name. 

Well,  there  was  no  Manuel  now  on  guard  there,  but 
he  could  not  face  these  other  two  alone,  and  they  would 
surely  be  there  by  dawn  at  least.  Kelleen  searched 
about  on  hands  and  knees  for  the  gun  Gomez  had 
dropped,  but  could  not  locate  it  in  the  darkness.  He 
arose  to  his  feet,  still  dazed  and  confused,  hardly  able 

(248) 


A  DUEL  IN  THE  DARK 


to  tell  directions,  but  driven  by  a  wild  impulse  to  escape, 
to  get  safely  out  of  that  silent  blackness,  that  grave,  in 
which  he  felt  smothered  and  imprisoned.  He  wanted 
to  breathe  the  fresh  air,  to  look  up  at  the  wide  arch  of 
sky.  He  endeavored  to  find  his  way,  circling  the  dead 
body,  and  feeling  with  one  hand  along  the  rock  wall. 
His  groping  fingers  discovered  a  crevice  in  the  stone, 
as  though  the  solid  rock  had  been  rent  asunder,  a  deep, 
irregular  gash  yawning  the  length  of  his  arm.  He  even 
advanced  a  step  into  the  strange  fissure,  wondering  at  its 
existence,  tempted  to  explore  its  secret,  when  they  came ! 
He  heard  them  pressing  aside  the  vines,  and  clambering 
to  the  top  of  the  rock  which  helped  conceal  the  entrance. 
They  did  this  apparently  without  fear,  with  no  impend- 
ing sense  of  danger,  and  then  dropped  to  the  floor  of 
the  tunnel.  There  were  two  of  them ;  he  could  tell  that 
by  the  sound — Meager  and  Sanchez.  But  where  then 
was  Deborah  Meredith?  . 


(249) 


CHAPTER  XXV 

THE  LIGHT  GOES  OUT 

KELLEEN  waited  in  an  agony  of  suspense,  his 
thought  with  the  missing  girl,  rather  than  on  his 
own  peril,  or  the  nearness  of  those  men  groping  blindly 
toward  him  in  the  darkness.  That  they  were  surprised, 
startled  at  not  being  greeted  by  Gomez,  was  plainly 
evidenced  from  the  first  gruff  utterance  reaching  his 
ears. 

"Where  the  hell  is  the  fellow?"  Meager  exclaimed 
angrily.  "  I  told  you  I  called  him  from  up  above,  and 
got  no  answer.  Now,  by  God!  he  isn't  even  down 
here." 

"  Oh,  he's  here  all  right.  There  was  no  chance  for 
his  getting  away  without  our  knowing  it.  We  had  our 
men  about  here  all  the  time." 

"  Your  men !  "  Meager  laughed  scornfully.  "  Those 
greasers;  they  would  only  be  playthings  for  Manuel. 
Hell,  man !  you  and  your  gang  couldn't  even  keep  your 
eyes  on  *  Frisco.' " 

"  I  supposed  you  sent  him,"  retorted  Sanchez,  with  a 
Spanish  oath.  "I  thought  he  was  in  with  us.  Why 
shouldn't  I?    He  blew  into  the  ranch  along  with  the 

(250) 


THE  LIGHT  GOES  OUT 


judge,  an'  you  seemed  damned  glad  to  see  him.  You 
two  been  together  before,  so  sure  I  took  it  he  was  in  on 
this  trick.    Then  the  fellow  rode  into  me  the  next  morn- 


ing  " 

"And  threw  sand  in  your  eyes." 

"He  sure  told  me  one  damn  straight  story.  He 
seemed  to  know  about  all  was  going  on.  I'd  heard  a 
lot  about  him,  knew  he  was  a  friend  of  yours,  and  sup- 
posed him  all  right.', 

"And  spilled  all  you  knew  —  damn  a  Mex,  anyhow.'* 

"Well,  ain't  he?" 

"Ain't  he  what?  He  ain't  nothing  just  now.  I  did 
run  with  him  a  bit,  of  course,  down  below  the  line.  But 
he  wasn't  invited  into  this  game,  and  his  being  with 
Garrity  was  just  an  accident.  At  least  I  took  it  that 
way  at  first.  Now  I  sorter  reckon  it  maybe  was  all  a 
put-up  job.  I  ain't  exactly  made  up  my  mind  what  the 
guy  was  up  to  —  just  suspected  something  was  going  on, 
and  decided  to  butt  in,  I  reckon.  But,  after  he  got  out 
here  snooping  around,  there  wasn't  nothing  to  do  but 
put  him  out  o'  the  way — specially  after  he  stole  my 
horse." 

M I  ain't  so  sure  he  stole  the  horse." 

"What  do  you  mean?" 

"Just  what  I  told  you  before.  You're  so  bull- 
headed  nobody  can  tell  you  nothing.    I  never  did  think 

(251) 


GIFT  OF  THE  DESERT 


that  fellow  you  shot  was  alone.  He  was  talking  to 
somebody  when  we  crept  up  —  I  heard  him." 

"  Talking  to  himself ;  you  never  saw  nobody  but  him." 

"No,  I  didn't;  he  was  upon  that  rock  against  the 
sky,  but  there  might  have  been  somebody  else  out  o' 
sight  on  the  ground.  You  was  in  such  a  damn  hurry 
to  get  to  Casebeer,  you  wouldn't  do  anything  else." 

"  Course,  I  knew  the  '  Kid '  was  alone,  and  after  that 
tumble  he  took  wouldn't  bother  no  more.  We  had  to 
get  Casebeer's  gang  out  of  here  before  daylight." 

"I  don't  know  why.  You  haven't  told  me  much. 
Why  didn't  you  let  the  outfit  go  on?  What  did  you 
want  to  unload  the  mules  here  for?  and  then  send  them 
back?" 

"  I  didn't  get  any  chance  to  tell  you.  It  was  after 
you  left  last  night  that  I  got  the  dope.  That's  why  I 
had  to  ride  out  here  myself,  by  God,  on  my  wedding 
night."  He  laughed  out  loud.  "  Say,  Sanchez,  there's 
some  real  girl,  let  me  tell  you.  Thinks  she's  knocked  me 
out;  rapped  me  with  a  gun  when  I  was  drunk,  and  got 
away.  Damned  if  she  didn't,  the  little  vixen.  I've  got 
to  go  back  and  show  her  what  kind  of  a  he-man  I  am 
when  I'm  sober." 

"  She  got  mad  at  you  ?  " 

"  Rather  that.  I  thought  she  was  the  soft  sort,  but 
she's  a  wildcat.    Got  me  the  first  swipe,  but  she'll  never 

(252) 


THE  LIGHT  GOES  OUT 


find  me  so  dead  easy  the  next  time.  I'll  teach  her  who's 
boss  when  I  get  this  job  out  of  the  way.  What  was  it 
you  asked?" 

"  Why  you  stopped  Casebeer?" 

"  That's  what  Garrity  came  to  tell  me.  He'd  got  on 
to  something.  There's  a  leak  somewhere.  We  couldn't 
get  the  stuff  through  tonight  —  a  bunch  of  cavalry  are 
up  in  Box  Canyon." 

"Hell!    What  brought 'em  there?" 

"  The  judge  didn't  know.  He  got  it  from  somebody 
at  the  post.  The  outfit  started  south,  but  that's  where 
they  were  bound." 

"You  don't  suppose  they  know?" 

"Sure  not — only  suspect  that  stuff  is  being  run 
through  again  along  this  trail.  All  we  got  to  do  is  lie 
low  awhile." 

11  No  one  has  seen  Gomez  ?  " 

uHe  hasn't  put  his  head  out  of  this  hole.  You 
haven't  seen  him  yourself,  Juan.  Come  on,  he  must 
be  back  in  there  asleep  somewhere  now  likely.  Keep 
one  hand  on  the  wall." 

"  Shall  I  strike  a  match,  senor  ?  " 

"No,  not  here;  wait  till  we  turn  the  bend;  then  it 
will  not  show  outside.  Can't  be  long  now  till  daylight 
comes. " 

Kelleen  silently  pressed  into  the  rift  of  the  rock,  the 
(253) 


GIFT  OF  THE  DESERT 


dead  man  at  his  feet,  could  mark  the  passage  of  the  two 
clearly  by  the  scraping  of  feet  as  they  groped  their  way 
along  the  stone  floor.  Following  the  opposite  wall  they 
would  miss  any  contact  with  Gomez'  body,  and  there 
was  nothing  he  could  do  but  stand,  and  let  them  pass. 
Twice  he  lifted  his  weapon  tempted  to  venture  a  shot 
through  the  darkness,  but  the  risk  was  too  great;  more- 
over he  had  a  wild  desire  to  learn  more,  a  suspicion  that 
he  was  on  the  verge  of  discovery  —  if  something  would 
only  cause  them  to  talk. 

Already  from  the  few  words  overheard  he  had  ar- 
rived at  one  conclusion  —  the  running  of  munitions  into 
Mexico  was  a  mere  subterfuge,  a  side  issue  of  no  great 
importance  compared  with  some  other  scheme  they  had 
in  view.  Kelleen  could  only  guess  at  this,  yet  it  cer- 
tainly must  center  about  Manuel  Gomez.  If  this  was 
the  hide-out  of  that  outlaw,  the  tunnel  must  contain 
treasure,  the  spoils  of  numerous  robberies.  The  fellow 
was  leader  of  a  gang  which  had  sacked  cities,  devas- 
tated churches,  held  citizens  for  ransom,  terrorized 
whole  provinces;  there  was  no  limit  to  the  wealth  he 
might  have  hidden  away.  If  Meager  and  Sanchez  were 
members  of  his  gang,  or  if  they  had  discovered  this 
secret  by  accident,  they  might  be  playing  now  for  big 
stakes.  And  Garrity!  surely  Garrity  would  have  a 
hand  in  any  deviltry  which  might  be  conceived.     He 

(254) 


THE  LIGHT  GOES  OUT 


was  in  position  to  warn  them  of  any  danger,  to  decide 
the  proper  moment  in  which  to  act.  Dangerous  as  his 
position  was,  Kelleen,  with  these  suspicions  surging 
through  his  mind,  could  not  resist  the  impulse  to  linger 
a  few  moments  longer.  His  whole  life  had  been  ad- 
venture, and  he  took  the  chance  on  one  more.  With- 
out it  he  hardly  felt  that  he  lived. 

The  two  men  had  turned  the  sharp  corner,  the  slight 
sound  of  their  movements  ceasing  to  reach  his  ears. 
Then  the  faint  glow  of  a  match  reflected  along  the  rock 
wall,  the  silence  broken  by  Meager' s  voice. 

"There's  the  lantern,  Juan  —  in  that  niche,  see. 
Here,  turn  up  the  wick." 

The  flame  brightened  suddenly,  but  the  outer  tunnel 
yet  remained  black.  Only  in  the  distance  the  light 
flickered  along  the  walls,  casting  weird  shadows.  One 
of  the  men  evidently  held  the  lantern  up,  peering  about 
curiously. 

"He's  not  here,  senor;  where's  the  old  devil,  any- 
how?" 

"Damned  if  I  know,"  anger  in  the  gruff  tone. 
"  Something  is  wrong  here.  By  God !  Suppose  he  has 
skipped  out?" 

"How  could  he?  We  watched  always.  He  trusted 
you,  senor?" 

"Hell,  of  course  not!" 

(255) 


GIFT  OF  THE  DESERT 


"  You  know  where  the  stuff  is  ?  He  never  went  away 
without  that." 

"Sure  not,  Juan;  but  I  don't  know.  The  old  devil 
was  too  smart  to  let  that  secret  out.  That  was  our  job 
now — to  make  him  tell.  The  judge  says  it's  here,  a 
hell  of  a  lot  of  it,  but  nobody  knows  where.  Once  I 
get  hands  on  him,  he'll  tell,  or  he'll  die  by  inches  — 
what's  that  out  yonder?  " 

They  moved  forward  with  the  light,  and  Kelleen,  all 
fear  swiftly  lost  in  his  intense  interest,  crept  on  to  the 
curve  in  the  tunnel,  from  which  point  he  could  see  their 
dim  shadows.  Behind  him,  but  unnoticed,  daylight  be- 
gan to  be  visible  through  the  mantle  of  vines  concealing 
the  entrance.  The  dark  figure  on  the  floor  assumed 
vague  outline.  The  two  men  in  the  lantern  glow  came 
to  a  halt,  thrusting  the  light  forward,  peering  at  the 
object  which  had  attracted  them.  The  Mexican  iden- 
tified it  first  in  a  sudden  cry. 

" It's  a  body,  a  dead  man,"  he  exclaimed.  "He  has 
been  killed  —  Manuel!" 

Meager  held  back,  the  coward  gripping  him,  but 
Sanchez  bore  the  lantern  forward,  desperate  to  learn 
the  truth.    His  startled  voice  came  down  the  passage. 

"  'Tis  not  Gomez,"  he  cried,  "  and  no  face  I  ever  saw 
before.    Perhaps  you  know  the  man?" 

Meager  joined  him,  glancing  uneasily  about,  and 
(256) 


- 


THE  LIGHT  GOES  OUT 


then  staring  down  into  the  dead  face.  He  seemed  to 
have  lost  control  of  himself,  and  his  lips  refused 
utterance. 

"  You  know  him,  senor  ?  "  Sanchez  asked  impatiently. 

"No;  but  there  has  been  a  fight,  or  a  murder  —  see, 
he  has  been  shot;  and  in  the  back,  by  God!  Gomez 
must  have  done  this  job.  But  what  has  become  of  the 
old  devil?  And  who  was  this  kid?  What  was  he 
doing  here?  See  if  there  is  anything  in  his  pockets, 
Juan.     Give  me  the  lantern." 

He  held  it  up,  as  the  Mexican  dropped  to  his 
knees,  and  began  to  rummage  through  the  dead  man's 
clothes.  The  increasing  daylight  of  the  desert  found 
entrance  far  above,  and  stole  down  the  narrow  passage 
in  a  faint,  ghastly  glimmer,  which  only  added  to  the 
ghastliness  of  the  scene.  The  strain  was  too  much  for 
Meager's  nerves,  and  he  swore  gruffly. 

"What  the  hell  makes  you  so  slow?  Anything 
there?" 

"No,  senor;  some  cartridges,  a  knife;  no  gun,  it's 
gone;  no  papers,  only  this  scrap;  see  in  his  fingers, 
just  like  someone  had  torn  the  rest  away — two,  three 
words,  that's  all;  they  mean  nothing  so." 

He  straightened  up  slowly;  then  swiftly  bent  over, 
jerking  the  lantern  from  out  Meager's  hand  and  hold- 
ing it  close  above  the  sand-strewn  floor. 

(257) 


GIFT  OF  THE  DESERT 


"  Saprista!  look  at  that !  "  excitedly.  "  Look,  seiior  I " 

"What  is  it?" 

"Caramba!  You  don't  see?  —  the  footstep;  the 
woman's  shoe!  How  came  it  there?  And  here  an- 
other; she  went  up  the  passage." 

"She,  you  say?" 

"Sure  it  was  she;  this  man  leave  no  such  print; 
see,  such  a  small  shoe;  it  was  a  girl,  a  woman,  and 
mark  she  crept  up  there.  Madre  de  DiosI  I  bet  she 
stole  your  horse ;  I  bet  she  crept  out  there  and  waited 
till  you  came.  But  what  the  hell  did  she  do  down  here, 
sefior?" 

Meager  stood  as  though  dazed,  unable  to  collect 
his  thoughts,  staring  first  at  those  telltale  footprints  in 
the  sand  dust,  and  then  about  into  the  gloom  of  the 
tunnel.  It  was  all  mystery,  only  to  be  solved  by  the 
discovery  of  Manuel  Gomez. 

11  Come  on,"  he  said  fiercely ;  M  bring  the  light.  We'll 
search  every  inch  of  this  damned  hole." 

Kelleen  turned,  his  first  impulse  being  to  escape,  to 
rush  toward  that  dim  glimmer  of  light  now  pla inly- 
marking  the  cave  entrance.  Yet  the  futility  of  such 
an  effort  came  to  him  instantly.  They  would  hear  him 
before  he  could  take  three  steps;  as  he  clambered  up 
the  rock,  his  body  plainly  outlined  against  the  dawn, 
he  would  make  a  perfect  target.    There  was  a  better 

(258) 


THE  LIGHT  GOES  OUT 


way  than  that,  and  he  whirled  back  to  face  them,  as 
the  two  came  cautiously  forward,  the  glow  of  the  lan- 
tern glimmering  like  a  red  star.  The  hand  with  the 
weapon  in  it  fell  to  a  level,  and  he  fired,  the  glass 
flickering  into  a  thousand  pieces,  the  light  instantly 
extinguished. 


(259) 


CHAPTER  XXVI 

IN  ON  A  NEW  GAME 

KELLEEN'S  plan  of  action  had  formed  swiftly  in 
his  mind.  He  had  a  glimmering  of  what  this 
conspiracy  meant,  but  must  learn  more.  Only  one 
method  was  possible  —  a  confession  from  Bob  Meager. 
The  real  secret  of  this  tunnel  was  in  his  possession, 
now  that  Manuel  Gomez  was  dead.  Sanchez  was  only 
a  pawn  in  the  game,  trusted  in  a  measure,  but  possess- 
ing only  a  dim  suspicion  of  the  real  value  of  the  stakes 
being  played  for.  Meager,  coward,  villain  as  he  was, 
had  the  cunning  to  conceive;  the  Mexican  the  desperate 
courage  to  execute.  Sanchez  dead  would  do  no  harm, 
but,  at  present,  Meager  alive  would  prove  a  value.  He 
must  be  made  to  talk. 

It  was  a  cool,  deliberate  proposition  which  flashed 
before  him.  He  would  fight  it  out  right  there,  where 
he  was.  There  were  only  two  of  them  fronting  him  — 
Meager  he  held  in  utmost  contempt;  the  other  was 
dangerous,  yet  no  more  than  an  ordinary  Mexican  out- 
law to  be  shot  down  without  remorse. 

The  advantages  in  this  encounter  were  altogether 
on  his  side.     He  knew  them,  where  they  were;  they 

(260) 


IN  ON  A  NEW  GAME 


possessed  no  knowledge  of  his  exact  position,  who  he 
was,  or  whether  they  faced  one  opponent  or  a  dozen. 
They  had  been  taken  completely  by  surprise,  startled 
by  the  sudden  attack,  confused  in  the  darkness.  Peer- 
ing forth  from  the  shelter  of  the  sharp  rock  edge  behind 
which  he  crouched,  Kelleen  was  unable  to  distinguish 
the  figures  of  the  two  men — yet,  behind  where  they 
must  be  hidden  in  the  gloom,  the  gray  daylight  filtered 
down  through  that  narrow  opening  leading  up  to  the 
desert  above,  and  faintly  tinged  the  rock  walls.  If 
they  moved,  if  they  attempted  to  retreat,  concealment 
was  impossible.  He  had  both  of  them  absolutely  at 
his  mercy. 

The  silence  was  intense  after  that  first  startled  sec- 
ond. There  was  no  movement,  not  even  the  sound  of 
breathing  audible.  The  two  stood  motionless,  crouched 
back  against  the  wall,  peering  into  the  blackness  from 
whence  that  tongue  of  flame  had  leaped  into  their  very 
faces,  yet  revealing  nothing.  They  could  neither  think, 
nor  act.  Who  had  fired — Manuel  Gomez?  some 
enemy  who  had  trapped  them?  Were  they  facing  one 
man,  or  a  dozen?  Into  what  had  they  blindly  walked? 
Confident  of  his  own  safety,  realizing  that  he  had  the 
whip  hand,  Kelleen  smiled  grimly,  every  nerve  tense, 
his  revolver  poised.    The  situation  pleased  him. 

"Drop  your  guns,  both  of  you!"  he  commanded 
(261) 


GIFT  OF  THE  DESERT 


sternly.    "  Quick  now !    I've  got  you  against  the  light." 

"Who  the  hell " 

"  Stop  that !  Drop  them,  or  I  shoot  something  be- 
sides a  lantern.    It's  a  hair  trigger  I'm  playing  with." 

He  heard  both  weapons  fall  to  the  floor,  Meager 
cursing  impotently,  but  the  Mexican  silent.  Kelleen 
laughed. 

"Kick  them  away  from  you  —  that's  right!  Not 
bad  fellows  when  properly  handled,  I  see.  Now  up 
with  your  hands,  and  back  against  the  wall  there." 

He  could  not  see  the  fellows,  not  so  much  as  an 
outline  of  them,  yet  knew  they  obeyed  the  order.  It 
was  a  bluff  which  worked  because  they  half  believed 
themselves  silhouetted  against  that  distant  gray  bar  of 
light  far  down  the  passage,  targets  not  to  be  easily 
missed.  That  cool,  stern  voice,  unfamiliar  in  the  echo- 
ing tunnel,  meant  business,  rasped  like  a  steel  file  on 
Meager's  nerves. 

"By  God!  Who  are  you?"  he  snarled  savagely. 
"What  the  hell  do  you  want?" 

"The  first  is  of  no  importance,  Meager,"  returned 
Kelleen  with  emphasis.  "But  I'll  answer  the  latter 
question.  Unbuckle  your  belt.  Go  on;  I  know  what 
you're  doing.  Yes;  take  it  off.  I've  got  you  boys 
covered;  make  one  false  move,  and  you'll  sure  taste 
lead.    Now  throw  that  belt  about  the  Mexican  —  sure 

(262) 


IN  ON  A  NEW  GAME 


I  know  who  you  both  are ;  I  came  here  gunning  for  you 
two  guys  —  around  his  arms  —  now,  damn  you,  draw 
it  tight!  Yes  —  that's  exaxctly  what  I  mean  —  strap 
them  to  his  body " 

Just  what  happened  is  not  clear.  Kelleen  could  not 
see;  he  dare  not  take  a  step  closer  to  make  sure.  The 
chances  are  that  Sanchez  had  two  guns  at  his  waist. 
He  had  discarded  one,  but  the  other  yet  remained. 
Not  certain  that  he  was  not  outlined  against  the  back- 
ground of  light,  he  dare  not  attempt  to  draw;  but  now, 
his  hands  lowered,  as  Meager  drew  the  belt  about  his 
arms,  desperate,  bitter  with  hate,  his  fingers  must  have 
gripped  the  butt.  With  one  convulsive  effort  he  fired 
in  the  direction  of  the  voice.  The  bullet  struck  the 
side  wall,  sent  a  splinter  of  rock  tearing  into  Kelleen's 
cheek,  yet,  even  as  he  staggered  back  half  blinded  in 
the  flame,  he  had  glimpse  of  the  maddened  Mexican, 
running  blindly  down  the  passage.  An  instant  the  fel- 
low stood  out  clear,  his  head  thrust  forward,  his  arms 
still  held  by  the  belt  clasp;  then  Kelleen  pulled  trig- 
ger, and  the  runner  sprawled  out,  flat  and  motionless, 
into  the  very  center  of  that  little  pool  of  gray  daylight. 

It  was  the  swift  work  of  an  instant,  then  darkness, 
and  Meager's  huge  bulk  crushed  Kelleen  against  the 
wall  in  one  mad  effort  to  kill.  For  a  moment  the  smaller 
man,  taken  completely  by  surprise,  struggled  helplessly 

(263) 


GIFT  OF  THE  DESERT 


to  escape  the  stranglehold  of  those  clutching  fingers. 
The  revolver  dropped  from  his  hand,  and  he  was 
forced  resistlessly  backward,  strangled,  unable  to  tear 
loose  that  vicelike  grip.  As  the  two  fell,  however, 
Meager's  head  struck  the  rock,  the  sharp  blow  so  dazing 
him  as  to  permit  Kelleen  an  instant  of  relief,  a  long, 
fresh  breath,  the  release  of  one  arm.  Underneath  him, 
pressing  against  his  hip,  lay  the  gun  he  had  been  forced 
to  drop.  With  desperate  effort  he  gained  possession 
of  the  weapon,  thrusting  the  muzzle  savagely  into 
Meager's  side. 

"Damn  you!"  he  choked.  "Feel  that!  Get  up, 
or  I'll  blow  a  hole  clear  through  you.  You  dirty  brute, 
to  kill  you  would  be  a  pleasure.  Get  clear  up!  Do 
you  know  me  now?" 

The  fellow,  thoroughly  cowed,  shrinking  back  with 
the  point  of  the  revolver  still  pressing  hard  against  his 
rib,  stuttered,  but  made  no  reply.  The  widening  radius 
of  daylight  gave  Kelleen  the  outlines  of  his  bulky  figure, 
but  features  were  invisible. 

"  What !  not  yet  ?  I'm  the  '  Frisco  Kid ! '  First  you 
thought  you'd  double-cross  me;  then  you  decided  mur- 
der would  do  the  job  best.  Well,  Meager,  neither  plan 
worked.  I'm  on  to  your  game,  and  I'm  very  much 
alive.  Now  I've  got  you.  Like  to  make  a  guess  why 
I  don't  kill  you?" 

(264) 


/AT  ON  A  NEW  GAME 


"You  —  you  want  me  to  squeal  first." 

"  Oh,  you'll  squeal  all  right;  I've  got  the  thumbscrews 
to  make  you  talk.  You've  partly  guessed  the  reason. 
You  know  the  secret  of  this  hole,  and  I  reckon  you  are 
the  only  one  who  does.  That  Mexican  partner  of 
yours  has  got  his.  Gomez  is  lying  out  there  with  a 
knife  thrust  in  him  —  you  bet,  I  know  who  the  devil 
is  —  you  are  the  only  one  of  the  gang  left  alive,  Bob, 
and  I've  got  a  gun  at  your  heart.  Now  answer  my 
questions,  and  answer  them  damn  quick.  Have  you 
got  your  voice  back,  you  big,  skunking  coward  ?  " 

Meager  growled  something  to  which  the  other  paid 
no  heed. 

"So  this  was  the  ape-man's  hang-out,  was  it?" 

"Yes." 

"How  did  you  catch  on?" 

"I  —  I  knew  him  down  in  Mexico." 

"Yes,  sure  you  did;  you  were  with  his  gang  of  cut- 
throats once.  I've  heard  about  that — but  he  never 
told  you  of  this  place?" 

Meager  hesitated,  and  Kelleen's  gun  pushed  harder. 

"You  better  spit  it  out,  Bob ;  I'd  sure  love  to  shoot." 

"Well,  damn  you,  what's  the  difference?  Garrity 
told  me  the  fellow  was  hiding  in  here  somewhere.  Man- 
uel used  to  come  to  him  when  he  needed  stuff,  but  he 
never  was  able  to  track  him  —  he  was  too  damn  smart 

(265) 


GIFT  OF  THE  DESERT 


for  the  judge.  That  was  what  I  came  up  here  for, 
and  mostly  the  reason  why  I  grabbed  the  ranch — see. 
Garrity  fixed  things,  because  he  knew  Manuel  had  a 
hell  of  a  lot  o'  spoils  stored  away.  We  wanted  a  free 
hand.  When  I  come  up  I  fired  every  American,  and 
took  on  Mexicans  I  knew.  We  run  just  cattle  enough 
so  as  to  get  an  excuse  for  exploring  the  desert.  We 
knew  the  damn  slippery  cuss  was  hid  around  here  some- 
where, but  couldn't  get  on  to  his  hole." 

"Well,  goon." 

"Seems  he  wasn't  doing  anything  any  more,  just 
hiding  out;  none  of  his  gang  with  him.  It  had  got  so 
hot  for  the  old  devil  he  was  afraid  to  show  his  nose 
above  ground;  fifty  thousand  for  him,  dead  or  alive, 
you  know — that  last  raid  had  got  the  U.  S.  after  him 
as  well  as  Mexico,  and  he  was  smart  enough  to  lie 
out  here  until  it  blew  over.  Maybe  we  never  would 
have  got  on  to  him  if  Sanchez  hadn't  struck  his  trail 
one  day  by  accident  over  beyond  Silver  Springs.  That 
led  him  into  this  valley,  and  then  he  got  lost  again. 
After  that  we  kept  a  watch.  It  didn't  do  no  good  for 
some  time,  the  old  fox  was  too  sly.  So  finally  Gar- 
rity put  up  a  meeting  with  him  —  they  had  some  secret 
signal  arranged  between  'em  —  and  in  that  way  we 
traced  out  this  cave  and  got  him  cornered." 

"  Cave!  it's  a  tunnel,  ain't  it?" 
(266) 


IN  ON  A  NEW  GAME 


11 1  don't  know  what  it  is.  IVe  only  been  here  once 
before  —  in  the  dark.    What's  your  idea?" 

"That  Manuel  found  'Alvara's  Lost  Mine' — it's 
got  all  the  earmarks." 

"The  —  the  'Lost  Mine!'  Then — then  it's  worth 
millions!     You  —  you  can't  mean  it." 

"It's  only  a  guess;  let's  chuck  that  now,  and  finish 
up  with  Gomez." 

"Yes,  but  wait!"  exclaimed  Meager  eagerly,  sud- 
denly seeing  a  chance  for  himself.  "There  ain't  no 
use  of  you  making  any  gunplay  with  me,  '  Kid.'  What's 
the  matter  with  us  being  pardners?  There's  only  three 
of  us  know  about  this — you,  Garrity,  an'  me.  Hell! 
there  must  be  money  enough  here  to  make  us  all  rich; 
Gomez  has  got  a  devil  of  a  lot  hid  away  somewhere, 
and,  good  God !  if  this  is  the  '  Lost  Mine ' " 

"Yes,  but  why  pick  on  me?" 

"Well,  ain't  that  what  you  wanted  a  while  ago? 
I  reckon  you  ain't  no  better  than  we  are.  Do  you  want 
to  hog  it  all?  What  is  the  sense  of  our  fighting  like 
two  dogs,  and  trying  to  kill  each  other,  when,  by  God ! 
there  must  be  enough  here  to  make  us  all  rich?  No- 
body else  will  ever  know  about  it  if  we  keep  quiet. 
All  we  need  do  is  bury  these  guys  ourselves,  get  the 
loot  out  of  the  way,  and  then  we  got  the  mine.  Hell ! 
it's  a  cinch !  " 

(267) 


GIFT  OF  THE  DESERT 


Kelleen  hesitated,  not  from  any  doubt  as  to  his  own 
purpose,  but  in  an  endeavor  to  choose  the  best  method. 
Meager's  plan  opened  new  possibilities ;  the  man  must 
know  more  than  he  had  revealed,  while  Garrity  was 
apparently  even  deeper  versed  in  the  mystery.  Just 
now  both  men  would  be  more  valuable  alive  than  dead. 
He  couldn't  trust  either,  not  for  an  instant;  they  were 
cold-blooded,  treacherous,  desperate  criminals.  There 
was  no  honesty  in  this  proposition,  only  a  cunning  effort 
to  throw  him  off  his  guard.  If  the  chance  ever  came 
he  would  be  murdered  without  a  qualm.  But  now  they 
proposed  being  partners  with  him  in  consummating 
this  crime;  he  was  to  associate  with  them  on  equal 
terms,  learn  their  secrets.  They  believed  him  to  belong 
to  their  class,  to  be  an  outlaw,  hiding  from  justice,  a 
desperate,  reckless  character,  with  a  price  on  his 
head  —  the  "Frisco  Kid."    He  made  decision. 

"That  sounds  fair  enough,  Bob,"  he  replied  quietly. 
"You  say  the  judge  is  in  on  this,  too?" 

"Sure;  he  got  the  dope,  and  you  can't  play  any 
tricks  on  Garrity.     He's  coming  here  this  morning." 

"Here?" 

"That's  what.  We  had  a  nice  little  surprise 
party  all  made  up  for  Manuel,  only  you  cooked  the 
goose " 

A  low,  peculiar  whistle  echoed  through  the  passage, 
(268) 


IN  ON  A  NEW  GAME 


and  Meager  stopped  suddenly.  Again  the  whistle 
sounded,  evidently  from  the  entrance  to  the  tunnel. 

"  I  reckon  that's  hi-m,"  he  said  grimly.  "  Now  what 
is  it  between  us,  'Kid' — peace  or  war?" 

Kelleen  thrust  his  revolver  back  into  his  belt. 

"  I'll  play  the  game,"  he  answered  shortly. 


(269) 


CHAPTER  XXVII 

FACE  TO  FACE 

WITH  eyes  long  accustomed  to  the  darkness  the 
two  men  could  perceive  shadowy  objects  in  the 
outer  passage,  where  little  shafts  of  daylight  penetrated 
through  the  tangle  of  concealing  foliage.  The  walls 
of  the  tunnel  were  gray-tinged  and  darker  objects — 
one  perhaps  the  dead  body  of  Manuel  Gomez  —  shape- 
less, and  grotesque,  littered  the  floor.  Meager,  evi- 
dently feeling  full  confidence  in  this  new  alliance,  moved 
forward,  while  Kelleen  followed,  still  suspicious,  and 
alert  for  any  treachery.  If  Garrity  came  there  alone 
he  would  take  the  chance;  if  not,  then  he  would  fight 
the  battle  out  there  in  the  tunnel,  asking  no  quarter, 
and  giving  none.  Meager  stopped,  his  huge  bulk  almost 
blotting  out  the  light. 

"  That  you,  Con?  "  he  asked  anxiously. 

A  head  pushed  through  the  vines,  but  cautiously. 

"Who  the  hell  else  would  it  be?"  exclaimed  an 
exasperated  voice.  "What's  going  on  here?  No- 
body on  watch ;  I  didn't  want  to  come  poking  in,  liable 
to  get  shot.    Where  the  devil  is  Manuel?" 

"Come  inside  and  I'll  explain;  just  drop  over  that 
(?70) 


FACE  TO  FACE 


ledge ;  it's  only  a  foot  or  two  to  the  floor.    You  came 
alone?" 

The  fellow  did  not  answer,  but  no  one  followed  as 
he  clambered  across  the  barrier  of  rock.  Apparently 
he  could  perceive  nothing  when  once  within,  except 
the  dim,  shapeless  figures  awaiting  him. 

"Two  of  you,  eh!  Damn,  but  it's  dark  in  here! 
That  you,  Manuel?" 

"  Manuel  is  dead,"  explained  Meager  briefly. 
"He's  been  killed." 

"  Dead !  Killed !  "  The  judge  pressed  his  body 
back  against  the  rock.  "What  do  you  mean,  Bob? 
Then  who  is  this  other  fellow  —  Sanchez?" 

Kelleen  took  the  matter  into  his  own  hands. 

"  I'm  the  4  Frisco  Kid,' "  he  announced  calmly,  yet 
with  one  hand  resting  on  his  gun.  "  You  know  me,  and 
that  it  is  all  right.  I'm  in  on  the  deal,  that's  the  only 
difference." 

"In  on  the  deal?" 

"Yes;  I'll  make  the  story  short,  and  the  sooner 
we  get  it  straight  the  better.  Bob  here  can  correct  me 
if  I  go  wrong.  I  got  onto  this  cave  awhile  back — been 
hiding  out  in  the  desert  myself,  you  know  —  and  so 
finally  spotted  old  Gomez.  Of  course  I  didn't  realize 
then  that  you  guys  were  in  the  game.  All  I  guessed 
was  that  I'd  stumbled  onto  Manuel's  hide-out,  and  that 

(271) 


GIFT  OF  THE  DESERT 


he  probably  had  a  bunch  of  loot  stored  away.  So  I 
started  in  to  play  a  lone  hand.  That  was  all  natural 
enough,  wasn't  it?" 

"  Maybe  so,"  growled  Garrity,  but  still  keenly  sus- 
picious.   "  Go  on." 

11  Tonight  there  was  a  gang  out  there  running  through 
a  pack  train  of  contraband." 

"It  didn't  go  through,  did  it?" 

"No;  they  unloaded,  stored  it  away  there  at  the 
head  of  the  valley,  and  went  back;  but  they  were  work- 
ing on  the  job  most  all  night.  I  got  close  enough  to 
see  who  they  were,  and  hear  them  talk.  Jem  Casebeer 
was  running  the  outfit,  but  Bob  here,  and  the  Mexican, 
Sanchez,  seemed  to  be  bossing  the  affair." 

"  What  in  hell  has  all  that  got  to  do  with  Manuel? " 

"Just  this.  I  was  looking  for  a  chance  to  get  in 
here  without  getting  my  head  blown  off.  Long  about 
midnight  I  thought  I  got  a  glimpse  of  old  Gomez 
sneaking  along  in  the  shadow  of  the  cliff,  like  he  was 
trying  to  find  out  also  what  was  going  on.  So,  as  soon 
as  I  could,  I  struck  out  to  explore.  I  got  in  here  all 
right,  but  must  have  got  the  dope  wrong,  for  the  cuss 
was  laying  for  me.  We  had  a  fight  in  the  dark,  and 
finally  I  got  him  with  a  knife.  That's  his  body  lying 
over  there." 

Garrity  drew  in  a  deep  breath. 
(272) 


FACE  TO  FACE 


"  I  —  I  can't  see." 

"  Well,  it's  there  anyhow,  next  to  that  side  wall.  I 
thought  I  was  all  right  after  that,  but  before  I  could 
go  on,  Meager  and  the  Mexican  came  in  on  me  through 
those  vines.  I  laid  low,  and  let  them  go  by.  It  was 
darker  than  hell  in  here  then,  and  they  naturally  talked 
some  while  they  were  feeling  their  way  along  the  wall. 
They  never  saw  the  body,  or  me,  but  I  heard  enough 
to  put  me  wise  to  what  they  were  after." 

"What  did  you  hear?" 

"  How  you  guys  got  onto  this  outfit,  and  what  you 
proposed  to  do  —  you'd  double-crossed  me  all  right. 
So  I  lay  still.  A  bit  later,  back  in  there,  after  they'd 
made  a  light,  and,  while  they  were  rubbering  at  another 
dead  one " 

"What?" 

"  Some  fellow  who  had  got  his  —  no  one  of  us  knew 
him  —  only  he  had  been  shot  in  the  back  of  the  head. 
Well,  while  they  were  rubbering  at  him,  I  got  the  drop 
on  the  two,  shot  out  their  light,  and  lined  them  back 
against  the  wall.  I  wasn't  going  to  do  any  killing,  un- 
derstand; all  I  wanted  was  my  share.  But  the  Mex 
must  have  hid  a  gun  in  the  dark,  for  all  of  a  sudden 
the  fellow  took  a  snapshot  at  me  from  the  hip,  and 
ducked.  It  missed,  and,  as  he  ran  straight  into  the 
light,  coming  down  that  passage  back  there,  I  got  him. 

(273) 


GIFT  OF  THE  DESERT 


He  went  down  on  his  face,  and  then  Bob  here  and  I 
mixed,  until  he  saw  a  light,  and  blubbered  out  a  decent 
proposition  that  caused  me  to  let  him  up." 
"What  kind  of  a  proposition ?" 
"A  fair  disposition  of  the  spoils  —  three  ways." 
"  Three  ways !    He  told  you  about  me,  then  ?  " 
"Sure  he  did;  I  knew,  anyhow.    That's  fair  enough, 
isn't  it?" 

"  Hell !  I  don't  know  whether  it  is  or  not." 
"Now,  see  here,  Garrity,"  broke  in  Meager  gruffly 
"  It  don't  look  to  me  as  if  there  was  anything  else  we 
could  do.  The  '  Kid '  got  onto  this  himself.  We  both 
know  he's  all  right,  and,  under  these  conditions,  he 
ought  to  have  his  share.  Hell !  if  he  don't,  I  reckon 
we  won't  any  of  us  get  any.  Besides,  there's  only  the 
three  of  us  left — Manuel  and  Sanchez  are  both  dead. 
And  say,  do  you  know  what  *  Frisco '  says  he  believes 
this  damn  tunnel  is?" 

"This  tunnel?  the  cave  you  mean?" 
"Sure,  he  says  it's  'Alvara's  Lost  Mine' — and,  by 
God  I  man,  if  it  is,  then  maybe  it's  worth  millions  of 
coin." 

Garrity  made  no  response.  Kelleen  could  not  dis- 
cern the  expression  of  the  man's  face,  but  was  sus- 
picious that  his  hand  rested  threateningly  on  the  butt 
of  a  revolver.    The  fellow  was  treacherous,  unscrupu- 

(274) 


FACE  TO  FACE 


lous,  miserly  even  in  crime,  capable  of  any  act  to  assure 
his  gain.  There  was  only  one  safe  way  of  dealing 
with  him  —  the  way  of  force,  the  heavy  hand.  Yet  he 
would  make  one  more  endeavor. 

"Well,  Judge,"  Kelleen  said  quietly,  "how  do  you 
like  this  plan?" 

"  I'm  damned  if  I  see  why  I  should  divide  up  with 
you.  We  were  in  here  first,  and,  by  your  own  con- 
fession, youVe  killed  Manuel  and  Sanchez.  I  don't 
see  any  claim  you've  got." 

"Then  I'll  try  and  make  you  see  it,"  the  voice  like 
ice,  the  black  barrel  of  his  gun  resting  in  the  crook  of 
his  left  arm.  "Now,  listen,  both  of  you — lift  your 
arms,  Garrity!  I'd  prefer  to  settle  this  little  matter 
peacefully  between  us,  but  if  it  is  going  to  be  war,  I've 
got  the  drop.  So,  Judge,  it  is  up  to  you.  Either  I'm 
in  on  this  deal,  a  full  partner,  or  else  I'm  in  on  it  alone. 
Take  your  choice,  and  be  damn  quick  about  it." 

"You  mean  —  what  is  it  you  mean?" 

"You  are  rather  dull  this  morning,  Garrity.  I 
haven't  much  of  a  reputation  for  wasting  words,  have 
I  ?  No  doubt  you  have  heard  the  4  Frisco  Kid '  knows 
how  to  shoot  when  needed?  What  more  explanation 
do  you  want?  I'm  in  on  this  deal,  or  you  are  a  dead 
one  —  that's  all.    Now  say  which  it  is." 

No  man  could  have  doubted  the  deadliness  of  Kel- 
(275) 


GIFT  OF  THE  DESERT 


ken's  meaning.  Garrity  knew  the  border  code  far  too 
well  to  hesitate. 

"Of  course  you're  in.  I  —  I  only  wanted  to  under- 
stand." 

"You've  got  it  clear  enough  now,  but  we'll  play 
safe.  Your  friend  Meager  here  is  unarmed,  and  you 
will  be  far  better  off  without  the  gun  —  throw  it  over 
into  that  corner." 

"And  leave  you  free  to  murder  us  both " 

"Sure,  if  I  decide  it's  best.  Only  I  don't  usually 
do  business  that  way.  You  have  heard  plenty  of  stories 
about  me,  but  no  one  ever  said  I  shot  a  man  treacher- 
ously. If  you  two  play  square  there  is  no  danger;  but 
this  is  a  case  of  two  pitted  against  one;  either  one  of 
you  would  cut  a  throat  for  a  five-dollar  bill.  I'll  give 
you  a  minute  —  throw  away  that  gun!  " 

He  stood  fronting  them  both,  the  two  between  him 
and  the  stronger  light.  His  face  was  emotionless,  but 
the  voice  speaking  was  crisp  and  hard.  The  two  knew 
him  only  as  a  desperado,  a  border  renegade,  a  man 
whose  willingness  to  kill  had  been  proven.  There 
remained  no  choice.  Garrity,  growling  forth  an  oath, 
flung  his  revolver  into  the  dark  corner  savagely. 

"  Frisk  him,  Bob;  I'm  taking  no  chances  this  time  — 
a  knife,  hey!  rather  an  ugly  tool,  Garrity — do  all 
judges  carry  them?    Yes,  throw  it  over  there  along 

(276) 


■ 


FACE  TO  FACE 


with  the  gun.  Are  you  sure  that  is  all?  Now,  Garrity, 
turn  about  is  fair  play;  try  your  hand  on  Meager — 
stripped  clean,  is  he?  better  feel  inside  his  shirt;  im- 
agine he  is  a  prisoner  in  your  court.  Good !  Now,  I 
reckon,  we  are  in  fair  shape  to  discuss  business  together. 
First,  gents,  let  me  say  this  —  I  haven't  the  slightest 
objection  in  the  world  to  killing  both  of  you  on  general 
principles.  I  know  your  style,  and  I'm  going  to  make 
the  present  situation  perfectly  clear.  Both  of  you  are 
damn  rascals,  capable  of  any  dirty  deviltry.  You'd 
kill  me  in  a  minute  if  you  only  had  a  chance.  I  don't 
propose  to  give  you  that  chance,  for  I  know  what  my 
life  is  worth,  and  mean  to  protect  it.  I  happen  to  need 
you  just  now  alive,  and,  if  you  obey  my  orders,  and 
answer  my  questions,  you'll  go  away  from  here  alive. 
If  you  don't,  you'll  be  buried  here  —  do  you  get  that?" 

They  stared  at  him,  without  a  word,  Garrity  sput- 
tering, but  totally  unable  to  articulate. 

"I  see  you  do;  so  let's  begin.  Which  one  of  you 
has  been  here  before?  What's  that,  Meager?  Oh, 
the  judge  has.  All  right  then,  Garrity,  tell  me  all 
about  it." 

"By  God!  you  can't " 

"Oh,  but  I  can;  in  fact,  it  is  not  necessary  that  I 
have  your  information.  I  can  search  this  hole  over 
your  dead  body,  only  I  would  rather  do  it  my  own 

(277) 


GIFT  OF  THE  DESERT 


way,  for  reasons  I'll  explain.     Do  you  want  them?" 

"  You  mean  to  kill  us  anyhow  after  you  find  the  loot." 

"  No  doubt  that's  your  idea.  That  is  what  you  would 
do,  and  you  have  me  ticketed  in  the  same  class.  Well, 
that  doesn't  happen  to  be  my  plan  at  all.  In  the  first 
place,  you've  got  me  labeled  wrong.  I'm  not  really 
after  the  loot;  I'm  after  you.  Do  you  get  that,  Gar- 
rity  ?  Meager  here  is  just  a  common  thief ;  he's  a  brute, 
and  therefore  dangerous,  but  a  damn,  sneaking  coward. 
All  I  care  particularly  about  him  is  to  save  a 
woman " 

"What  woman?"  the  surprised  question  burst  from 
the  other  fellow's  lips,  before  he  could  restrain  it. 

"Deborah  Meredith;  the  woman  you  forced  into 
marriage  with  you.  But  Garrity  here  has  been  the  evil 
genius  of  this  border  for  the  last  ten  years.  There  is 
no  crime  he  hasn't  had  a  finger  in.  But  no  one  could 
catch  him  redhanded.  Now  I've  got  you  both — got 
you  good  and  hard.  I'm  going  to  bring  you  in,  dead 
or  alive  —  but  alive  if  possible." 

The  eyes  of  the  prisoners  met;  then  both  stared 
helplessly  into  the  mouth  of  the  leveled  revolver. 

"Who  the  hell  are  you?"  burst  forth  Garrity,  his 
face  beaded  with  perspiration. 

"My  name  is  Kelleen,  a  captain  of  cavalry;  I've 
been  after  you  for  three  months." 

(278) 


CHAPTER  XXVIII 

THE  SPOILS  OF  CRIME 

<f^  OOD  GOD !  then  you're  not  the  '  Frisco  Kid? ' " 
VJ  "I'm  all  the  'Kid'  there  ever  was,"  Kelleen 
admitted  carelessly.  "That  party  was  simply  manu- 
factured to  order;  here  is  where  he  ends  his  desperate 
career.  I  would  have  kept  the  secret  awhile  longer  if 
I  could,  but  perhaps  it  is  just  as  well.  Now  we  under- 
stand each  other,  Garrity,  and  the  very  best  thing  you 
can  do  will  be  to  answer  my  questions." 

"  You  haven't  the  power  to  make  me." 

"Oh,  yes  I  have,  Judge  —  right  here.  I  know  ex- 
actly what  you  thought  of  me  before;  that  I  was  an 
outlaw,  with  a  price  set  on  my  head;  that  you  could  kill 
me  if  necessary,  and  no  questions  would  ever  be  asked, 
or  you  could  have  me  arrested  later,  and  taken  care 
of  in  that  way.  You  have  treated  others  by  that 
formula,  I  believe.  But  it  won't  work  this  time  — 
do  you  see?  The  case  has  turned  about;  I  am  the 
officer  of  the  law;  I  can  kill  you,  and  go  free.  I've 
not  only  got  the  drop,  my  man,  but  there  are  cavalry- 
men over  at  Box  Canyon — you  know  that — and  they 
will  be  up  here  looking  for  me  pretty  soon.    So,  either 

(279) 


GIFT  OF  THE  DESERT 


dead  or  alive,  you  fellows  take  my  orders.  I  want  to 
get  this  thing  straight.  Meager  says  you've  been  in 
here  before;  is  that  right?" 


"Yes  —  once. 


n 


I 


"With  Gomez ?" 

" No;  when  I  knew  he  was  away." 

"  Trying  to  find  out  what  he  had  hidden  away  here, 
I  suppose.    Well,  what  did  you  discover?  " 

"Nothing;  not  a  thing  more  than  you  have  seen." 

"But  now  you  come  back.  You  believe  there  is 
treasure  here,  fruit  of  robbery,  of  crime,  and  you  came 
sneaking  back  after  it — you,  Meager,  and  Sanchez  — 
how  did  you  plan  to  get  it?  " 

Garrity  stood  silent  and  sullen. 

"You  don't  need  to  answer,  for  I  know.  Meager 
told  that.  You  intended  to  torture  the  old  devil  until 
he  confessed  where  it  was  concealed.  You  can't  do  that 
now  because  he  is  dead,  and  his  secret  died  with  him. 
There  is  only  one  way  left,  and  that  is  to  search.  This 
is  why  I  need  you,  Garrity,  for  I  believe  you  know  a 
lot  more  than  you  are  confessing  just  yet." 

Kelleen  paused,  turning  quickly  over  in  his  mind 
what  he  had  better  attempt.  He  felt  a  profound  con- 
tempt for  his  prisoners.  Meager,  while  a  physical 
giant,  was  mentally  no  more  than  a  mere  cowardly 
brute;    Garrity   might   be    truly   dangerous  — a    sly, 

(280) 


THE  SPOILS  OF  CRIME 


treacherous  villain,  but  physically  unable  to  cope  with 
him  for  a  moment,  and  now  utterly  cowed.  While  he 
remained  armed,  and  they  were  weaponless,  he  cer- 
tainly had  nothing  to  fear.  His  first  intention  had  been 
to  hold  the  fellows  as  prisoners,  until  the  squad  of 
troopers  appeared;  turn  them  over  to  the  lieutenant 
in  command,  searching  the  cave  later  at  his  own  leisure. 
But  why  wait?  It  might  be  an  hour,  two  hours  yet, 
before  the  soldiers  arrived  —  and  then  there  was  Deb- 
orah. His  thought  leaped  swiftly  to  the  girl;  what 
had  happened  to  her  during  those  long,  dark  hours? 
Where  had  she  disappeared  after  he  had  been  dashed 
from  the  rock?  She  had  evidently  escaped  discovery; 
he  knew  that;  had  wandered  off  into  the  desert  doubt- 
less, might  be  there  still,  lost  in  those  leagues  of  sand, 
struggling  for  life.  The  vision  called  to  him,  yet  he 
could  not  seek  her  until  after  his  men  came.  These 
prisoners  were  far  too  important  to  be  left  unguarded. 
His  duty  as  an  officer  held  him  as  in  a  vise. 

But  he  realized  at  that  moment  a  decision  that  his 
heart  was  with  Deborah  Meredith.  He  must  find  her, 
rescue  her,  and  —  thank  God!  —  there  was  sufficient 
time  in  which  to  accomplish  this.  The  hours  since  they 
had  parted  were  not  sufficient  to  expose  the  girl  to 
any  great  peril;  even  if  she  was  still  wandering  aim- 
lessly on  the  desert  the  opportunity  to  find  her,  to  save 

(281) 


GIFT  OF  THE  DESERT 


her  life,  yet  remained.  Perhaps,  after  all,  he  might 
serve  her  best  where  he  was,  driving  these  men  to  full 
confession;  then,  with  the  troopers  there  to  aid  him, 
he  would  search  that  sand  waste  from  end  to  end.  It 
Was  all  he  could  do;  but  he  would  never  be  content 
merely  to  sit  there  in  semidarkness  on  guard.  His  jaw 
set  with  determination. 

"When  did  you  first  learn  that  Gomez  was  hiding 
out  in  this  neighborhood,  Garrity?"  he  questioned 
suddenly. 

"  Six  months  ago.    I  saw  him  in  Nogales." 

"  Privately  ?" 

"Yes;  we  had  some  deals  together  before." 

"Paid  you  for  protection,  did  he?  What  did  he 
want  this  time?" 

"Provisions.  I  was  to  get  him  out  grub  at  night; 
leave  it  at  a  certain  spot.    That  was  all." 

"He  didn't  tell  you  where  he  was  hiding  out?" 

"  No,  but  he  had  plenty  of  money.  I  didn't  get  much 
information  out  of  him;  he  never  did  trust  anybody. 
The  authorities  had  run  him  pretty  close,  I  reckon; 
anyhow  he  was  all  alone,  not  one  of  his  gang  left. 
When  I  couldn't  find  out  anything  more,  I  got  Meager 
to  come  up  here." 

"After  the  older  Meager  was  killed?" 

"  Sure ;  that  gave  us  a  chance." 
(282) 


THE  SPOILS  OF  CRIME 


"I  see;  the  papers  were  all  in  your  possession;  not 
above  doctoring  them,  were  you?" 

11  What  the  hell  is  that  to  you? " 

"  Not  a  great  deal  to  me,  perhaps,  but  of  some  im- 
portance to  a  couple  of  women  I  know  —  one  of  them 
a  friend  of  mine.  Old  Tom  Meager  left  an  invalid 
widow,  whom  you  fellows  have,  I  believe,  robbed  sys- 
tematically, and  then  there  is  the  girl  Bob  forced  into 
marriage.  You  didn't  suppose  I  knew  about  all  this* 
I  imagine  —  well,  I'm  going  to  get  to  the  very  bottom 
of  it  before  we  are  through.  But  just  now  I  want  to 
use  the  two  of  you.  We'll  find  out  between  us  just 
what  Manuel  did  have  hidden  away  in  this  hole.  Line 
up  there  against  the  wall;  face  about  the  other  way! 
Now  listen ;  I've  got  both  guns,  my  own,  and  the  one 
Garrity  threw  away;  they  are  cocked  and  within  three 
feet  of  your  backs.  I  can't  possibly  miss  you,  and  if  you 
make  one  move,  except  as  I  tell  you,  I'm  going  to  let 
drive.    Are  you  ready?  " 

"Ready  for  what?" 

"To  do  as  I  order.  All  right,  then;  there  is  plenty 
of  light  for  me  to  see  you  by  at  this  distance.  Move 
forward  slowly — Garrity,  you  keep  your  hand  on  the 
wall,  and  you,  Meager,  take  hold  of  Garrity's  sleeve; 
now  don't  forget;  if  you  do  it's  sure  fatal.  Go  on  slow,, 
a  step  at  a  time." 

(283) 


GIFT  OF  THE  DESERT 


They  came  to  the  curve  in  the  side  wall;  beyond 
this  was  a  zone  of  darkness  even  this  late  in  the  day, 
but  far  down  the  passage  the  little  stream  of  light  from 
off  the  desert  above  enabled  Kelleen  to  keep  in  view 
the  outlines  of  his  captives.  If  there  was  really  a  secret 
room  in  this  tunnel  he  had  located  its  most  probable 
position  in  his  own  mind,  and  had  fixed  upon  the  first 
point  to  explore. 

"  Move  on,"  he  said  sternly,  as  the  two  hesitated  to 
advance.  "  I'll  tell  you  when  to  stop.  Pick  up  that 
lantern,  Meager;  it  hasn't  any  glass,  but  will  do,  if  we 
need  a  light." 

They  circled  the  bodies  of  the  two  dead  men  lying 
in  the  pool  of  radiance  which  fell  on  them  from  above. 
Sanchez,  huddled  up  like  a  dog,  rested  with  his  face 
against  the  rock  floor,  but  the  other  stared  upward, 
every  ghastly  feature  revealed.  Garrity  gave  one 
glance,  and  turned  his  eyes  away. 

"Ever  see  that  boy  before.  Judge?" 

"  Believe  I  did,  once.  Copied  a  map  of  this  country 
in  my  office;  said  he  was  hunting  a  claim." 

"Tell  you  his  name?" 

"No;  I  wasn't  interested." 

"All  right,  then;  one  of  you  light  the  wick  in  that 
lantern.  No,  I'd  rather  have  you  take  it,  Meager; 
get  back  farther  out  of  the  draught.    Now  hold  it  up, 

(284) 


' 


■ 


THE  SPOILS  OF  CRIME 


and  we'll  find  out  where  this  passage  leads.  Walk 
closer  together." 

They  advanced  again  some  ten  or  twelve  steps  down 
an  opening  scarcely  wide  enough  for  the  two  to  pass 
abreast,  Kelleen's  gaze  wandering  from  the  backs  of 
his  prisoners  to  the  gray  walls  on  either  side.  The  light 
flickered,  yet  revealed  no  opening,  until  they  came  to 
the  very  end,  and  fronted  the  solid  rock.  Even  then, 
for  an  instant,  Kelleen  failed  to  perceive  the  narrow 
cleft  to  the  left  beside  Meager,  but  the  latter,  excited 
by  the  discovery,  thrust  the  sputtering  lantern  forward, 
holding  it  at  arm's  length,  above  a  rough  stone  slab 
which  half  barred  the  way. 

"Hell's  fire!  Look  there!"  he  cried  excitedly,  al- 
most dropping  the  light. 

Garrity  craned  his  neck  to  see,  both  men  so  wild 
at  the  sudden  discovery  as  to  lose  all  thought  of  every- 
thing else.  Even  Kelleen,  revolver  in  hand,  and  fully 
awake  to  the  danger  of  his  position,  pushed  forward 
far  enough  to  gain  a  partial  glimpse  within.  Meager 
started  to  climb  over,  but  the  judge  stood  motionless, 
breathing  hard,  his  hands  gripped  on  the  stone,  his  eyes 
glaring  about  the  oddly  shaped  room,  probably  orig- 
inally a  cavern  formed  by  water,  but  enlarged  by  the 
efforts  of  men.  The  whole  apartment  might  have 
measured  fifteen  by  ten  feet,  barely  high  enough  to 

(285) 


GIFT  OF  THE  DESERT 


stand  erect  in,  the  walls  varicolored  and  sparkling  in 
the  rays  of  the  uplifted  lantern.  At  the  farther  ex- 
tremity lay  a  pile  of  debris,  scattered  rock,  and  pow- 
dered stone,  as  though  resting  just  as  they  fell  after 
an  explosion,  the  entire  end  almost  totally  covered. 
Protruding  from  this  pile,  clearly  revealed,  now  that 
Meager  had  found  footing  inside,  and  held  the  blazing 
wick  higher,  was  the  white,  ghastly  skeleton  of  a  man, 
his  bones  still  covered  with  bits  of  ragged  cloth.  Caught 
by  a  falling  rock,  he  had  been  pinned  there  helpless  until 
he  died. 

The  three  men  scarcely  saw  all  this,  or  gave  it  a 
thought,  for  there,  immediately  in  front,  and  all  about 
them,  unarranged,  scattered  in  heaps,  lying  where  they 
had  been  thrown  carelessly  over  that  outer  barrier  of 
rock,  rested  the  miscellaneous  spoils  of  a  thousand  rob- 
beries, the  sack  of  churches  and  towns ;  jewels  torn  from 
women's  hands,  silver  and  gold,  rich  booty  of  crime 
from  midnight  raids,  and  the  burning  of  cities  —  the 
hidden  treasures  of  old  Manuel  Gomez.  It  was  un- 
believable, staggering.  What  suffering,  what  death, 
what  cruelty  and  torture,  did  these  things  picture !  And 
wealth — wealth  I  Who  could  even  calculate  its  value? 
Bloodstained,  crime-gotten,  the  fruits  of  fifty  years  of 
outlawry,  here  was  gathered,  in  one  vast  heap,  wealth 
to  make  the  mind  of  man  helpless  to  grasp  its  value. 

(286) 


THE  SPOILS  OF  CRIME 


Garrity,  digging  his  fingers  frantically  into  the  stone, 
unconscious  of  what  he  did,  his  eyes  blazing  with  sud- 
den, uncontrollable  madness,  dragged  himself  over  the 
barrier.  He  had  lost  all  reason,  all  fear;  with  a  mad 
cry  he  gathered  up  into  his  arms  all  that  he  could  grasp 
—  golden  crucifix,  chaliced  goblet,  a  great  silver  link 
glittering  with  pearls,  a  jeweled  bodice  blazing  in  the 
light — laughed  like  a  fiend  as  he  hugged  them  close, 
then  staggered  on  in  wild  ecstasy,  a  string  of  oaths 
breaking  from  his  lips.  Something  tripped  him  and 
he  fell,  his  arms  flung  blindly  out;  a  gripping  hand 
struck  the  lantern  from  Meager's  grasp,  flinging  it,  still 
blazing,  a  half-dozen  feet  away.  An  instant  there  was 
silence,  a  mere  flicker  of  light,  which  shot  along  the 
floor  as  though  on  a  trail  of  powder — then  a  glare 
and  roar,  a  blast  of  flame,  a  report,  as  if  a  thousand 
cannon  had  exploded;  and  utter  darkness. 


(287) 


CHAPTER  XXIX 

THE  FINDING  OF  GOMEZ 

THE  little  squad  of  cavalry  moved  up  the  creek 
bottom  with  much  caution.  The  rangy  young 
lieutenant,  exercising  his  first  independent  command, 
was  determined  to  neglect  no  precautions.  Indeed  he 
was  not  quite  satisfied  in  his  own  mind  that  he  should 
yield  to  the  anxious  insistence  of  this  girl  who  had  so 
strangely  appeared  in  his  camp.  She  was  decidedly 
pretty,  and  she  interested  him,  yet  he  was  not  alto- 
gether without  suspicion.  He  had  been  given  strict 
orders,  and  her  sudden  arrival  had  disarranged  all 
his  previous  plans.  At  first  he  had  been  disinclined  to 
advance  at  all,  but  the  sergeant  had  sided  in  with  the 
girl,  and  overcome  his  objections.  The  sergeant  knew 
Captain  Kelleen,  and,  because  of  twenty  years'  service, 
ventured  to  express  himself  rather  freely.  Lieutenant 
Carr,  while  inclined  to  resent  this,  nevertheless  realized 
his  own  inexperience,  and,  finally  with  reluctance,  gave 
the  necessary  order.  But  he  did  not  purpose  to  take 
any  unnecessary  risks.  If  Kelleen  was  already  dead 
there  surely  was  no  reason  to  hurry,  as  they  could  be 
of  no  assistance;  perhaps  this  was  all  a  ruse  to  lead  him 
into  a  trap.    The  girl  had  admitted  there  were  a  num- 

(288) 


THE  FINDING  OF  GOMEZ 


ber  of  men  in  the  valley  —  how  many  she  did  not  know 
—  probably  far  outnumbering  his  small  force.  Carney, 
the  sergeant,  permitted  him  to  have  his  own  way,  laugh- 
ing a  bit  to  himself,  however,  and  so  they  jogged  along 
slowly,  a  couple  of  scouts  well  in  advance,  with  a  vedette 
on  either  flank,  watchful  of  the  desert  on  either  side. 
Deborah  begged  for  haste,  but  the  officer  remained 
adamant,  and,  at  last,  in  despair,  utterly  wearied,  her 
mind  in  a  chaos,  she  rode  on  listlessly  beside  him.  Kel- 
leen  must  be  dead;  she  dare  not  even  dream  anything 
else.  She  had  heard  the  shot,  seen  the  burst  of  flame, 
caught  sight  of  his  toppling  body  plunging  over  the  edge 
of  the  cliff.  The  men  who  shot  him  had  no  doubt; 
they  had  fired  to  kill,  believed  they  had  killed;  and  gone 
away  satisfied — Bob  Meager  and  the  Mexican.  She 
shivered  at  the  memory  of  them.  Her  husband!  that 
murderer  her  husband!  He  could  claim  her,  would 
claim  her  if  he  lived ;  legally  she  belonged  to  him.  The 
ceremony  was  sacrilege,  a  hideous  mockery,  yet  it  was 
legal,  legal;  it  left  her  forever  in  the  power  of  that 
brute.  She  shuddered  at  recollection  of  that  scene  in 
the  ranchhouse,  the  leering,  drunken  faces,  the  sharp 
voice  of  Judge  Garrity,  the  brutal  grip  with  which  Bob 
Meager  held  her,  those  hateful  words  which  bound  her 
to  such  unspeakable  shame.  And  then  the  struggle  to 
save  herself;  the  hours  of  torture  waiting  for  his  com- 

(289) 


GIFT  OF  THE  DESERT 


ing,  the  broken  door,  the  clutch  of  his  hands,  the  hot, 
drunken  breath  on  her  face,  the  blow  which  set  her 
free.  Good  God !  could  this  all  be  true !  The  fresh 
night  air,  the  escape  through  the  black  night,  the  meet- 
ing with  Daniel  Kelleen. 

He  had  been  a  man,  a  real  man ;  he  had  died  for  her. 
Unchecked,  unnoticed  the  tears  welled  into  her  eyes, 
and  fell  on  the  saddle  pommel.  She  could  see  nothing 
but  his  face,  realize  nothing  but  that  they  were  riding 
now  to  bring  back  his  body.  She  had  almost  known  be- 
fore that  she  loved  him,  but  now,  in  bereavement  and  de- 
spair, she  comprehended  that  all  the  brightness  and 
hope  had  gone  from  life.  She  yet  lived,  must  continue 
to  live  —  the  wife  of  Bob  Meager. 

Under  a  high,  burning  sun,  reflected  back  into  their 
faces  from  off  the  leagues  of  sand,  the  little  party  rode 
steadily  forward,  seeing  nothing  but  the  drear  desert. 
The  strain  and  stillness  left  them  silent,  lolling  wearily 
in  the  saddles,  listless  eyes  scanning  the  dreariness 
ahead.  The  lieutenant  occasionally  glanced  aside  at  the 
girl,  but  he  found  no  words  to  speak,  she  was  such  a 
pathetic  figure.  So  he  rode  grimly  on,  and  left  her 
mercifully  to  her  own  thoughts. 

It  must  have  been  nearly  noon  when  the  little  caval- 
cade debouched  from  the  bed  of  the  stream,  forced  their 
jaded  horses  up  the  bank,  and  came  to  where  the  riders 

(290) 


THE  FINDING  OF  GOMEZ 


could  look  down  into  the  half-concealed  valley  below. 
The  advance  scouts  waited  them  here  among  the  rocks, 
to  point  out  the  trail,  curving  downward  through  a 
ravine.  They  had  discovered  no  signs  of  recent  pas- 
sage, no  marks  of  hoofs;  nor  were  there  any  signs  of 
human  presence  in  the  lower  valley. 

The  lieutenant  studied  the  scene  through  his  glasses, 
yet  vaguely  suspicious  of  some  trick,  consulted  with  the 
sergeant,  and  finally  spoke  to  Deborah. 

"This  must  be  the  place,"  he  said,  ubut  it  seems  de- 
serted.   Do  you  recognize  anything?" 

"  Yes,  although  I  have  never  been  here  before.  The 
Casebeer  outfit  were  yonder,  just  beyond  that  bend.  I 
told  you  they  were  unloading  the  mules,  and  Captain 
Kelleen  said  they  were  going  back,  anxious  to  get  away 
before  daybreak." 

"  You  think  then  they  have  already  left?  " 

"Yes,  long  ago.  If  any  people  remain  in  the  valley 
it  will  be  Meager  and  some  of  the  men  with  him.  I  ex- 
plained all  that  to  you." 

The  officer  flushed. 

"Yes,  yes,  I  know,  but  it  is  my  duty  to  be  cautious. 
Could  you  guide  us  from  here  ?  " 

She  sat  straight  in  the  saddle,  a  new  light  in  her  eyes, 
as  she  pointed  the  directions. 

"  I  can  never  forget.     Straight  ahead  down  there  is 
(29!) 


GIFT  OF  THE  DESERT 


where  they  were  storing  the  things — a  fire  burned  there 
by  that  big  rock;  you  can  see  a  whisp  of  smoke  even 
now.  This  trail  must  lead  direct.  Over  there,"  she  hid 
her  face  for  an  instant  in  her  hands  as  though  to  shut 
out  the  sight,  "  is  the  cliff  over  which  Captain  Kelleen 
fell,  and  just  beyond,  at  the  upper  end  of  the  valley  is 
the  cave  I  told  you  about.  I  —  I  am  going  down 
whether  you  and  your  soldiers  come  or  not.  I  —  I  must 
learn  the  truth." 

She  forced  her  horse  forward,  and  the  others  fol- 
lowed, waiting  for  no  command,  the  sergeant  riding 
almost  beside  her  in  the  narrow  trail.  They  found  the 
storehouse,  back  within  the  shadow  of  the  great  rock, 
so  concealed  by  trees  as  to  be  invisible  a  few  yards  away. 
It  was  deserted,  unguarded;  and  satisfied  as  to  this  fact, 
convinced  by  a  hundred  signs  that  the  entire  outfit  had 
indeed  returned  the  way  they  came,  the  lieutenant  scat- 
tered his  force  to  explore  the  upper  valley.  His  mood 
had  changed  from  suspicion  of  this  girl  to  faith  in  her 
strange  story.  Things  were  exactly  as  she  had  de- 
scribed. Dismounted,  their  horses  being  led  behind 
them  in  readiness  for  any  emergency,  the  squad  ad- 
vanced, the  men  with  carbines  in  their  hands.  The  ser- 
geant kept  close  in  against  the  southern  cliff  until  he 
came  to  where  Deborah  pointed  out  the  spot  of  Kel- 
leen's  fall.    They  found  no  body,  no  signs  to  indicate 

(292) 


THE  FINDING  OF  GOMEZ 


any  such  tragedy.     Carney  gazed  about  in  perplexity. 

"You  are  sure  this  is  the  place,  miss?"  he  asked 
doubtfully. 

"Yes,  Sergeant;  we  were  on  the  rock  up  there,  the 
one  jutting  out  over  the  edge;  there  is  no  other  spot 
like  it." 

His  eyes,  narrowed,  surveyed  the  distance,  marking 
every  detail. 

"Then  it's  likely  he  struck  them  trees,  miss,  and 
there  may  be  a  ledge  there  that  he  lit  on.   I'm  going  up." 

He  fought  his  way  from  rock  to  rock,  with  difficulty 
finding  foot  anil  handhold,  winding  in  and  out  of  crev- 
ices, and  using  every  shrub  to  aid  his  progress  upward. 
Once  or  twice  he  paused,  as  though  blocked,  clinging 
to  the  face  of  the  cliff  like  a  fly,  yet  found  a  way,  and 
went  on.  Those  below  watched  breathlessly  until  the 
man  finally  crept  over  an  outcropping  ledge,  impercep- 
tible from  where  they  stood,  and  disappeared.  It 
seemed  as  though  he  was  gone  a  long  while.  Deborah, 
hand  pressed  on  her  heart,  never  removed  her  eyes 
from  the  spot,  or  stirred.  What  had  he  found  up  there  ? 
Surely  he  must  have  discovered  something — the  dead, 
mangled  body,  no  doubt.  Then  he  appeared  again, 
alone,  standing  up  and  gazing  down  at  them.  His  voice 
as  he  hailed  them  below,  sounded  clear,  exultant,  a  new 
ring  in  its  tone. 

(293) 


GIFT  OF  THE  DESERT 


"He  ain't  here,  miss,  but,  by  God,  sir,  I  believe  he's 
alive." 

Deborah  could  not  speak,  could  not  utter  a  sound. 
Alive !  Alive !  why  that  was  impossible ;  her  very  heart 
seemed  to  stop  beating.  She  could  only  stare  up  at  the 
man  dazed  and  helpless.  It  was  the  lieutenant  who  an- 
swered. 

11  You  say  he  is  alive,  Carney?  " 

"  Well,  he  sure  left  here  alive,  sir,  and  on  his  own  legs. 
I  found  the  place  where  he  come  down,  an'  where  he 
got  on  his  feet  again.  There  wasn't  nobody  else  here 
helpin'  him,  an'  he  started  off  along  this  ledge  —  limpin' 
a  bit,  I  should  say,  but  goin'  alone.  Whatever  happened 
since,  sir,  he  certainly  left  here  able  to  navigate.  May- 
be I  better  follow  the  trail?" 

"Yes,  go  on,  Sergeant." 

Deborah's  limbs  trembled  so  she  could  scarcely  walk 
for  the  first  few  steps.  She  clung  gratefully  to  the  lieu- 
tenant's arm,  her  gaze  never  deserting  the  man  mov- 
ing cautiously  along  the  narrow  ledge  of  rock  high 
above  them.  Alive !  Daniel  Kelleen  was  alive !  Noth- 
ing else  mattered;  nothing  else  had  any  place  in  her 
mind — through  some  strange  miracle  of  God,  Daniel 
Kelleen  was  alive !  The  sense  of  her  surroundings  came 
back  as  they  advanced,  the  memory  of  it  all  quickening 
her  perceptions,  as  strength  returned.     He  was  alive 

C294) 


THE  FINDING  OF  GOMEZ 


after  his  fall,  able  to  walk — to  plan.  What  would  he 
most  naturally  do  ?  To  seek  her  then  was  impossible, 
and  he  had  remembered  that  cave  which  she  had  de- 
scribed. He  must  have  been  seeking  it;  his  trail  led 
directly  there.  Her  hands  clasped  tightly  at  the  of- 
ficer's sleeve. 

"Have  the  sergeant  hurry;  please  have  him  hurry! 
He  doesn't  need  to  trace  Captain  Kelleen's  trail.  I  —  I 
am  sure  I  know  where  he  was  going." 

"Where  was  that?" 

"To  the  cave  I  had  found,  and  told  him  about;  it  is 
there  just  beyond  that  mound.  Good  God,  Lieutenant, 
there  are  horses  grazing  yonder — they  have  found  him 
already." 

There  were  two  animals  in  a  little  cove,  hobbled,  and 
nibbling  at  the  short  grass,  but  both  saddled  and  bridled, 
They  had  the  Meager  ranch  brand  on  their  flanks,  and 
the  sergeant,  joining  the  party  below,  easily  followed 
the  trail  of  two  men  on  foot  until  they  circled  the 
mound  of  earth,  and  ascended  the  opposite  side. 
Deborah  pressed  her  way  forward,  too  eager  now  to 
be  longer  held  back,  yet  fully  realizing  the  danger  con* 
fronting  them. 

"  Be  careful  here,"  she  warned.  "  They  are  certainly 
in  there — two  or  three,  at  least,  and  they  will  shoot. 
Here,  Sergeant,  let  me  show  you;  I  know  the  way." 

(295) 


GIFT  OF  THE  DESERT 


They  crept  up,  the  three  of  them,  the  two  men  with 
weapons  drawn,  keeping  close  in  under  the  partial  pro- 
tection of  the  cliff.  Behind  four  or  five  troopers  fol- 
lowed, with  carbines  thrown  forward.  Nothing  op- 
posed their  progress;  the  very  mystery  adding  to  the 
strain  on  their  nerves.  To  Deborah  it  became  almost 
unbearable  —  surely  they  must  be  there,  just  behind  that 
leaf  screen,  Bob  Meager  and  the  Mexican,  Sanchez; 
those  were  their  horses  —  and  that  ape-man!  Why 
were  they  so  still?  What  caused  them  to  hold  back 
their  fire?  Could  it  be  possible  they  were  all  back  in 
the  tunnel,  with  no  guard  set?  And  Kelleen !  what  had 
happened  to  Kelleen? 

They  were  already  before  the  clinging  vines;  her 
hands  trembled  as  she  forced  these  aside  revealing  the 
black  vacancy  behind.  The  startled  sergeant  pressed 
them  farther  back,  staring  bewildered  into  the  void,  his 
service  revolver  thrust  forward,  an  oath  breaking  from 
his  lips. 

"  By  God !  but  this  beats  hell,  sir.  Damn  it,  but  I'm 
goin'  in ! " 

He  went  over  the  barrier  of  rock  unmolested,  un- 
stopped, and  recklessly  Deborah  followed.  The  lieu- 
tenant paused  an  instant. 

"Jones,  you  and  Calhoun  follow  us;  the  others  re- 
main out  here.    Keep  your  eyes  open,  lads." 

(296) 


THE  FINDING  OF  GOMEZ 


The  next  moment  he  had  also  scrambled  through  the 
opening,  and  crouched  down  beside  the  trembling  girl. 
Just  ahead  the  two  could  dimly  distinguish  Carney, 
leaning  forward,  peering  into  the  total  darkness  beyond. 

"It's — it's  perfectly  level,  the  floor  is,"  she  whis- 
pered.   "  You  can  follow  along  the  wall  —  I  did." 

They  advanced  together  slowly,  feeling  their  way, 
scarcely  a  sound  breaking  the  silence.  Suddenly  the 
sergeant,  slightly  in  advance,  stopped,  feeling  at  some- 
thing on  the  floor  with  his  feet;  then  he  stooped  over. 

"  By  God,  here's  a  dead  man  I " 

"A  dead  man !    Are  you  sure  ?  " 

"He's  dead  all  right,  sir.  Where's  the  flash-light? 
We've  got  to  find  out  what  this  means." 

"Jones  has  it;  Jones,  come  up  here.  Give  me  the 
flash." 

The  round  glare  of  light  struck  the  side  walls,  swept 
over  the  still  kneeling  sergeant,  glinting  on  his  drawn 
weapon,  and  then  touched  the  motionless  body  out- 
stretched on  the  floor.  At  last  it  rested  on  the  upturned 
face.  The  sergeant  stared  down  as  though  he  saw  a 
ghost. 

"By  God! "  he  ejaculated  at  last,  "by  God!  it's  the 
old  devil  himself.  What's  that,  Carney!  you  know 
him?" 

"Know  him!  Why,  sir,  Lieutenant,  it's  Gomez, 
(297) 


GIFT  OF  THE  DESERT 


Manuel  Gomez  —  there's  fifty  thousand  dollars  on  him 
dead  or  alive.    Well,  he's  dead  all  right." 

" Gomez,  the  outlaw;  but  are  you  sure?" 

"Sure,"  the  sergeant  rose  to  his  feet  and  swung 
about.  "Sure?  Hell!  —  begging  your  pardon,  sir — 
why  shouldn't  I  be  sure  ?  I've  chased  that  old  fox  ever 
since  I've  been  in  the  army,  twenty  years,  sir.  Twice 
we  were  after  him  down  in  old  Mexico.  It's  Manuel 
Gomez  lying  there,  and  it  was  a  knife  that  killed  him." 

The  boy  lieutenant's  face  was  white  in  the  reflected 
light,  but  his  lips  were  firmly  set. 

"Well,  he's  dead  now,"  he  said  sternly,  "and  it  is 
up  to  us  to  find  out  what  all  this  means." 

He  lifted  the  flash  from  off  the  upturned  face,  and 
sent  it  dancing  along  the  gray  walls  into  the  black 
chasm  ahead. 


(298) 


CHAPTER  XXX 

THE  MESSAGE  OF  LIFE 

"T)UT,   Lieutenant,  this  ain't  no  cave,  sir;  it's  a 
JJ    bloomin'  mine,"  a  voice  spoke  from  behind  in 
tone  of  surprise. 

"  What  makes  you  think  that,  Calhoun  ?  " 

"  Cause  it's  been  blasted  out  mostly,  sir,  or  else  picked. 
I've  been  a  miner  myself,  and  ought  to  know.  Maybe 
there  was  a  cave  yere  once,  but  I  tell  yer,  sir,  these  yere 
walls  have  been  hand-worked,  or  I'm  a  piker." 

"All  right,  we've  got  to  explore  the  passage  just  the 
same.    Come  on,  men." 

He  flashed  the  warning  light  ahead,  as  they  ad- 
vanced, taking  his  own  place  beside  the  sergeant,  and 
compelling  Deborah  to  remain  behind  with  the  two 
soldiers.  As  the  passage  curved  to  the  right  the  leaders 
crept  forward  with  extreme  caution,  to  gain  view  of 
what  lay  hidden  beyond,  Carr  reaching  out  his  hand  to 
send  the  flicker  of  light  dancing  down  the  narrowed 
tunnel.  The  flashing  rays  brought  no  response,  awoke 
no  sound  of  movement,  and  Carney  ventured  to  pro- 
trude his  head  far  enough  around  the  protecting  rock 
to  gain  view  of  what  was  beyond.    The  flash-light  was 

C299) 


GIFT  OF  THE  DESERT 


no  longer  needed  to  reveal  the  scene.  At  the  end  of  the 
passage,  down  through  that  slight  opening  leading  to 
the  desert  above,  streamed  the  glare  of  day,  white  and 
dazzling  to  his  eyes  after  the  pitch  darkness  in  which  he 
had  been  blindly  feeling  his  way  forward.  It  rested,  a 
pool  of  light  on  the  floor,  and  in  its  very  center,  every 
detail  outlined  as  in  an  etching,  were  two  bodies,  one 
face  downward,  curled  in  grotesque  shape,  the  other 
lying  at  full  length,  features  upturned  to  the  low  roof. 
Beyond  these  the  flare  of  the  flash-light,  leaping  across 
this  narrow  space  of  day,  exhibited  a  jumbled  mass  of 
rock,  blocking  the  passage  from  top  to  bottom.  They 
seemed  to  have  attained  the  very  end  of  things. 

The  startled  sergeant  stared  speechless  —  first  at 
those  motionless  bodies,  death  pictured  in  each  attitude; 
then  beyond  at  a  strange,  ghastly,  white  face,  on  which 
the  search-light  fantastically  played.  Suddenly  some- 
thing else  reflected  into  his  eyes,  the  sparkle  of  an  up- 
lifted revolver's  polished  tube. 

"  Who  are  you  ?  "  asked  a  hoarse  voice  sternly.  "  Stop 
there  until  you  answer." 

"  My  God,  sir ! "  was  the  instant  cry.  "  I'm  Carney, 
Sergeant  Carney,  Captain.    We've  come  here  for  you, 


The  threatening  revolver  sank  weakly,  and  Carney 
and  the  lieutenant,  oblivious  to  all  else,  rushed  forward, 

(300) 


THE  MESSAGE  OF  LIFE 


circling  the  two  dead  bodies  in  their  eagerness  to  reach 
the  one  live  man  beyond,  held  helpless  in  that  fall  of 
rock.  Deborah,  left  in  the  darkness  behind,  groped  her 
way  forward,  dazed,  speechless,  only  one  fact  echoing 
in  her  mind  —  he  was  alive,  Daniel  Kelleen  was  alive! 

He  lifted  his  head,  and  looked  at  them,  trying  to 
smile. 

"  God,  but  it  is  good  to  see  you,  Sergeant,"  he  man- 
aged to  say.  "I  —  I  thought  you  would  never  come. 
This  darkness;  those  dead  men  out  there,  and — and  I 
couldn't  move.  No,  I  don't  believe  I'm  badly  hurt; 
only  just  caught  me,  that's  all  —  a  single  second  more, 
and  I'd  gone  free."  His  face  lit  up  suddenly,  his  eyes 
brightening  with  recognition.  "You  —  you  here,  too, 
Deborah  Meredith!  Why — why  I  have  been  worry- 
ing about  you;  lying  here  in  the  dark  I  haven't  thought 
of  much  else;  I  —  I  kept  seeing  you  wandering  alone 
out  there  in  the  desert." 

She  dropped  to  her  knees,  and  drew  his  head  into  the 
comfort  of  her  lap,  her  hand  smoothing  back  his  hair. 
There  were  glistening,  unshed  tears  in  her  eyes,  and  he 
saw  them. 

"No,  I  got  away,"  she  explained  hastily.  "They 
did  not  see  me  at  all,  and  then  God  guided  me  to  your 
men." 

"  I  know  part  of  it  —  Meager  told  me." 
(301) 


GIFT  OF  THE  DESERT 


"Bob  Meager?"  her  heart  choked  her.  "He  was 
really  here  with  you  then?  What  —  what  happened? 
Can  you  tell  me  ?  they  will  have  those  rocks  dug  away  in 
a  moment." 

"Yes,  yes,  he  was  here,  he  and  Garrity — the  judge, 
you  know.  They — they  are  both  in  there  now,  buried 
under  tons  of  rock.  I  —  hardly  know  what  did  hap- 
pen; it  all  came  on  us  in  a  flash.  There  was  a  tunnel  in 
here,  a  room,  where  old  Alvara  had  been  mining  years 
and  years  ago.  He  must  have  died  there  all  alone,  for 
I  saw  his  skeleton  on  a  pile  of  stone.  Then  those  two 
went  in  —  Meager  and  Garrity — with  a  broken  lan- 
tern. I  —  I  think  one  of  them  fell,  and — and  there 
must  have  been  some  powder  left  there  —  powder  old 
Alvara  had,  maybe,  a  lot  of  it.  I  —  I  saw  the  flash, 
and  jumped  back  —  they  are  there  yet,  buried." 

"Bob  Meager  is  dead?" 

"  Crushed  to  a  pulp." 

His  head  sank  back  helplessly,  and  his  eyes  closed. 
Carney  and  Jones  rolled  the  last  stone  from  off  the  im- 
prisoned limbs,  but  he  lay  insensible.  The  three  sol- 
diers bore  him  out  through  the  black  passage  to  the  en- 
trance, and,  with  the  assistance  of  those  others  outside, 
lifted  his  body  over  the  rock  barrier,  between  the  cling- 
ing vines  into  the  sunlight.  Deborah  never  left  his  side, 
and  as  they  placed  the  body  on  the  short  turf,  his  head 

(302) 


- 


THE  MESSAGE  OF  LIFE 


rested  again  on  her  arm.    The  sergeant  knelt,  and  felt 
the  outstretched  limbs. 

"  Badly  bruised,  and  perhaps  crushed  a  bit,"  he  said 
at  last,  "  but  I  doubt  if  there  is  a  bone  broken.  He'll 
be  all  right  presently.  One  of  you  fellows  bring  a  can- 
teen. Now,  miss,  a  little  water  will  do  the  captain  more 
good  than  anything  else.    What  is  it,  Lieutenant?" 

"We  can  hardly  move  him  at  present,  Sergeant. 
He'll  have  to  rest  awhile  before  he  can  ride.  Perhaps 
we  better  search  those  bodies  back  there,  and  dispose 
of  them  in  some  way." 

"Very  well,  sir." 

They  disappeared  together,  all  but  two  troopers  left 
on  guard;  below  in  the  valley  the  troop  horses  grazed  in 
the  sunshine.  Deborah,  bathing  the  white  face  gently, 
waited  with  wildly  beating  heart.  She  was  free,  free, 
and  Daniel  Kelleen  lived.  There  was  nothing  else  in 
life  to  think  about. 

He  slowly  opened  his  eyes,  and  smiled  up  at  her,  as 
though  her  being  there  was  the  most  natural  thing  in  the 
world. 

"  The  blue  sky,"  he  said,  his  voice  trembling,  "  how 
beautiful  it  is.  God !  but  it  is  good  to  get  out  of  that 
hole,  with  dead  men  everywhere." 

"Yes,"  she  replied,  "but  don't  try  to  talk  now;  that 
is  all  over  with. " 

(303) 


GIFT  OF  THE  DESERT 


"  But  I  want  to  talk,"  he  insisted.  "  It  keeps  me  from 
thinking;  it  makes  me  know  it  is  all  real  —  this  blue  sky, 
and  you." 

u  Then  if  you  must,  tell  me  what  happened;  it  seems 
almost  a  miracle." 

"  It  was  a  miracle,  and  I  am  not  sure  but  you  were 
God's  messenger,"  he  replied  soberly.  Then  slowly, 
hesitatingly,  prompted  now  and  then  by  a  question,  he 
told  his  story,  his  voice  growing  stronger  as  he  spoke. 
The  guard  sat  on  a  rock  a  dozen  feet  away,  their  car- 
bines between  their  knees,  eyes  on  the  deserted  valley 
below.  The  girl  bent  over  eagerly,  seeking  not  to  lose 
a  word.    At  the  end  Kelleen  asked  suddenly. 

"The  paper  you  took  from  the  boy's  hand — what 
was  it?" 

11  Only  a  map,  very  roughly  drawn,  and  written  on 
in  Spanish.    I  could  make  little  out  of  it — see." 

She  held  it  out  before  him,  a  yellow,  creased  paper, 
looking  a  century  old.  He  held  it  for  a  moment  in  his 
own  hands,  peering  at  the  crisscross  of  lines  impatiently. 

"Perhaps  it  was  one  Alvara  left,"  he  said  slowly, 
"and  the  boy  had  found.  He  followed  the  rainbow 
to  the  end." 

"And  we  will  never  know?" 

"  No ;  the  end  was  death." 

They  were  quiet  a  long  while ;  then  his  hand  move 
(304) 


THE  MESSAGE  OF  LIFE 


and  touched  her  own.  Her  eyes,  which  had  been  on 
the  valley,  dropped  wonderingly  to  his  face. 

"Xhis  is  not  all,  is  it — just  to  be  alive  again? "  he 
asked  softly. 

MI  —  I  hardly  know  what  you  mean." 

"Back  there  in  the  tunnel,"  he  insisted,  "when  I 
first  looked  up  into  your  eyes  I  read  a  message ;  I  want 
to  read  it  again." 

"A  message  —  are  you  sure?" 

"  Yes,  dear,  I  am  sure;  it  was  a  message  of  love." 

She  was  no  longer  looking  at  him,  and  she  caught  her 
breath.     Then  their  eyes  met  once  more. 

"  It  is  the  same  message  always,  Daniel  Kelleen,"  she 
said  simply. 


(305) 


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Black  Is  White.     By  George  Barr  McCutcheon. 

Blacksheep!    Blacksheep!.    By  Meredith  Nicholson. 

Blind  Man's  Eyes,  The.     By   Wm.    Mac   Harg  and   Edwin 

Balmer. 
Boardwalk,  The.     By  Margaret  Widdemer. 
Bob  Hampton  of  Placer.    By  Randall  Parrish. 
Bob,  Son  of  Battle.     By  Alfred  Oiivant. 
Box  With  Broken  Seals,  The.    By  E.  Phillips  Oppenheim. 
Boy  With  Wings,  The.    By  Berta  Ruck. 
Brandon  of  the  Engineers.    By  Harold  Bindloss. 
Bridge  of  Kisses,  The.    By  Berta  Ruck. 
Broad  Highway,  The.    By  Jeffery  Farnol. 
Broadway  Bab.    By  Johnston  McCulley. 
Brown  Study,  The.     By  Grace  S.  Richmond. 
Bruce  of  the  Circle  A.    By  Harold  Titus. 
JBuccaneer  Farmer,  The.    By  Harold  Bindloss. 
Buck  Peters,  Ranchman.     By  Clarence  E.  Mulford. 
Builders,  The.    By  Ellen  Glasgow. 
Business  of  Life,  The.    By  Robert  W.  Chambers. 

Cab  of  the  Sleeping  Horse,  The.    By  John  Reed  Scott 

Cabbage  and  Kings.    By  O.  Henry. 

Cabin  Fever.    By  B.  M.  Bower. 

Calling  of  Dan  Matthews,  The.    By  Harold  Bell  Wright, 

Cape  Cod  Stories.     By  Joseph  C.  Lincoln. 

Cap'n  Abe,  Storekeeper.    By  James  A.  Cooper. 

Cap'n  Dan's  Daughter.    By  Joseph  C.  Lincoln. 

Cap'n  Erl.    By  Joseph  C.  Lincoln. 

Cap'n  Jonah's  Fortune.    By  James  A.  Cooper. 

Cap'n  Warren's  Wards.    By  Joseph  C  Lincoln. 

Chinese  Label,  The.    Bv  J.  Frank  Davis. 

Christine  of  the  Young  Heart.  Bv  Louise  Breintenbacfi  Clancy, 

Cinderella  Jane.    By  Marjorie  B.  Cooke. 

Cinema  Murder,  The.     By  E.  Phillips  Oppenheim. 

City  of  Masks,  The.    By  George  Barr  McCutcheon. 

Cleek  of  Scotland  Yard.    By  T.  W.  Hanshew. 


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Cleek,  The  Man  of  Forty  Faces.    By  Thomas  W.  Hanshew. 

deck's  Government  Cases.     By  Thomas  W.  Hanshew. 

Clipped  Wings.    By  Rupert  Hughes. 

Clutch  of  Circumstance,  The.    By  Marjorie  Benton  Cooke. 

Coast  of  Adventure,  The.     By  Harold  Bindloss. 

Come-Back,  The.    By  Carolyn  Wells. 

Coming  of  Cassidy,  The.    By  Clarence  E.  Mulford. 

Coming  of  the  Law,  The.     By  Charles  A.  Seltzer. 

Comrades  of  Peril.     By  Randall  Parrish. 

Conquest  of  Canaan,  The.     By  Booth  Tarkington. 

Conspirators,  The.     By  Robert  W.  Chambers. 

Contraband.     By  Randall  Parrish. 

Cottage  of  Delight,  The.    By  Will  N.  Harben. 

Court  of  Inquiry,  A.    By  Grace  S.  Richmond. 

Cricket,  The.     By  Marjorie  Benton  Cooke. 

Crimson  Gardenia,  The,  and  Other  Tales  of  Adventure, 

Rex  Beach. 
Crimson  Tide,  The.    By  Robert  W.  Chambers. 
Cross  Currents.     By  Author  of  "Pollyanna." 
Cross  Pull,  The.     By  Hal.  G.  Evarts. 
Cry  in  the  Wilderness,  A.    By  Mary  E.  Waller. 
Cry  of  Youth,  A.    By  Cynthia  Lombardi. 
Cup  of  Fury,  The.    By  Rupeit  Hughes. 
Curious  Quest,  The.     By  E.  Phillips  Oppenheim. 

Danger  and  Other  Stories.    By  A.  Conan  Doyle. 
Dark  Hollow,  The.    By  Anna  Katharine  Green. 
Dark  Star,  The.     By  Robert  W.  Chambers. 
Daughter  Pays,  The.     By  Mrs.  Baillie  Reynolds. 
Day  of  Days,  The.    By  Louis  Joseph  Vance. 
Depot  Master,  The.     By  Joseph  C.  Lincoln. 
Destroying  Angel,  The.    By  Louis  Joseph  Vance. 
Devil's  Own,  The.    By  Randall  Parrish. 
Devil'*  Paw,  The.    By  E.  Phillips  Oppenheim. 
Disturbing  Charm,  The.     By  Berta  Ruck. 
Door  of  Dread,  The.    By  Arthur  Stringer. 
Dope.    By  Sax  Rohmer. 

Double  Traitor,  The.     By  E.  Phillips  Oppenheim. 
Duds.    Bv  Henry  C.  Rowland. 


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Empty  Pockets.    By  Rupert  Hughes. 
Erskine  Dale  Pioneer.    By  John  Fox,  Jr. 
Everyman's  Land.    By  C.  N.  &  A.  M.  Williamson. 
Extricating  Obadiah.    By  Joseph  C.  Lincoln. 
Eyes  of  the  Blind,  The.    By  Arthur  Somers  Roche. 
Eyes  of  the  World,  The.    By  Harold  Bell  Wright 

Fairfax  and  His  Pride.    By  Marie  Van  Vorst. 

Felix  O'Day.    By  F.  Hopkinson  Smith. 

54-40  or  Fight.     By  Emerson  Hough. 

Fighting  Chance,  The.    By  Robert  W.  Chambers. 

Fighting  Fool,  The.    By  Dane  Coolidge. 

Fighting  Shepherdess,  The.    By  Caroline  Lockhart. 

Financier,  The.     By  Theodore  Dreiser. 

Find  the  Woman,    By  Arthur  Somers  Roche. 

First  Sir  Percy,  The.    By  The  Baroness  Orczy. 

Flame,  The.    By  Olive  Wadsley. 

For  Better,  for  Worse.    By  W.  B.  Maxwell, 

Forbidden  Trail,  The.    By  Honore  Willsie. 

Forfeit,  The.     By  Ridgwell  Cullum. 

Fortieth  Door,  The.    By  Mary  Hastings  Bradley, 

Four  Million,  The.    By  O.  Henry. 

From  Now  On.    By  Frank  L.  Packard. 

Fur  Bringers,  The.    By  Hulbert  Footner. 

Further  Adventures  of  Jimmie  Dale.    By  Frank  L.  Packard. 

Get"  Your  Man.    By  Ethel  and  James  Dorrance. 

Girl  in  the  Mirror,  The.    By  Elizabeth  Jordan. 

Girl  of  O.  K.  Valley,  The.    By  Robert  Watson. 

Girl  of  the  Blue  Ridge,  A.  By  Payne  Erskine. 

Girl  from  Keller's,  The.    By  Harold  Bindloss. 

Girl  Philippa,  The.    By  Robert  W.  Chambers. 

Girls  at  His  Billet,  The.    By  Berta  Ruck. 

Glory  Rides  the  Range.    By  Ethel  and  James  Borrance. 

Gloved  Hand,  The.    By  Burton  E.  Stevenson. 

God's  Country  and  the  Woman.    By  James  Oliver  Curwood. 

God's  Good  Man.    By  Marie  Corelli. 

Going  Some.    By  Rex  Beach. 

Gold  Girl,  The.    By  James  B.  Hendryx. 

Golden  Scorpion,  The.    By  Sax  Rohmer. 


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Golden  Slipper,  The.    By  Anna  Katharine  Green. 

Golden  Woman,  The.    By  Ridgwell  Cullum. 

Good  References.    By  E.  J.  Rath. 

Gorgeous  Girl,  The.     By  Nalbro  Bartley. 

Gray  Angels,  The.     By  Nalbro  Bartley. 

Great  Impersonation,  The.    By  E.  Phillips  Oppenheim. 

Greater  Love  Hath  No  Man.     By  Frank  L.  Packard. 

Green  Eyes  of  Bast,  The.     By  Sax  Rohmer. 

Greyfriars  Bobby.     By  Eleanor  Atkinson. 

Gun  Brand,  The.    By  James  B.  Hendryx. 

Hand  of  Fu-Manchu,  The.    By  Sax  Rohmer. 
Happy  House.     By  Baroness  Von  Hutten. 
Harbor  Road,  The.     By  Sara  Ware  Bassett. 
Havoc.    By  E.  Phillips  Oppenheim. 
Heart  of  the  Desert,  The;    By  Honore  Willsie. 
Heart  of  the  Hills,  The.     By  John  Fox,  Jr. 
Heart  of  the  Sunset     By  Rex  Beach. 

Heart  of  Thunder  Mountain,  The.    By  Edfrid  A.  Bingham. 
Heart  of  Unaga,  The.    By  Ridgwell  Cullum. 
Hidden  Children,  The.     By  Robert  W.  Chambers. 
Hidden  Trails.    By  William  Patterson  White. 
Highflyers,  The.    By  Clarence  B.  Kelland. 
Hillman,  The.    By  E.  Phillips  Oppenheim, 
Hills  of  Refuge,  The.    By  Will  N.  Harben. 
His  Last  Bow.     By  A.  Conan  Doyle. 
His  Official  Fiancee.    By  Berta  Ruck. 
Honor  of  the  Big  Snows.    By  James  Oliver  Curwood. 
Hopalong  Cassidy.     By  Clarence  E.  Mulford. 
Hound  from  the  North,  The.     By  Ridgwell  Cullum. 
House  of  the  Whispering  Pines,  The.     By  Anna  Katharine 
.     Green. 

Hugh  Wynne,  Free  Quaker.    By  S.  Weir  Mitchell,  M.D. 
Humoresque.     By  Fannie  Hurst. 

I  Conquered.    By  Harold  Titus. 
Illustrious  Prince,  The.     By  E.  Phillips  Oppenheim. 
In  Another  Girl's  Shoes.    By  Berta  Ruck. 
Indifference  of  Juliet,  The.    By  Grace  S.  Richmond. 
Inez.    aiL  Ed.)     By  Augusta  J.  Evans. 


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Infelice.     By  Augusta  Evans  Wilson. 

Initials  Only.    By  Anna  Katharine  Green. 

Inner  Law,  The.    By  Will  N.  Harben. 

Innocent.     By  Marie  Corelli. 

In  Red  and  Gold.     By  Samuel  Merwin. 

Insidious  Dr.  Fu-Manchu,  The.    By  Sax  Rohmer, 

In  the  Brooding  Wild.    By  Ridgwell  Cullum. 

Intriguers,  The.     By  William  Le  Queux. 

Iron  Furrow,  The.    By  George  C.  Shedd. 

Iron  Trail,  The.     By  Rex  Beach. 

Iron  Woman,  The.    By  Margaret  Deland. 

Ishmaet  (111.)     By  Mrs.  Southworth. 

Island  of  Surprise.     By  Cyrus  Townsend  Brady, 

I  Spy.    By  Natalie  Sumner  Linclon. 

It  Pays  to  Smile.     By  Nina  Wilcox  Putnam. 

I've  Married  Marjorie.    By  Margaret  Widdemer. 

Jean  of  the  Lazy  A.    By  B.  M.  Bower. 

Jeanne  of  the  Marshes.    By  E.  Phillips  Oppenheim, 

Jennie  Gerhatdt.     By  Theodore  Dreiser. 

Johnny  Nelson.    By  Clarence  E.  Mulford. 

Judgment  House,  The.    By  Gilbert  Parker. 

Keeper  of  the  Door,  The.    By  Ethel  M.  Del!. 

Keith  of  the  Border.     By  Randall  Parrish. 

Kent  Knowles:  Quahaug.     By  Joseph  C.  Lincoln. 

Kingdom  of  the  Blind,  The.    By  E.  Phillips  Oppenheinie 

King  Spruce.     By  Holman  Day. 

Knave  of  Diamonds,  The.    By  Ethel  M.  Dell. 

La  Chance  Mine  Mystery,  The.    By  S.  Carleton. 
Lady  Doc,  The.    By  Caroline  Lockhart. 
Land-Girl's  Love  Story,  A.    By  Berta  Ruck. 
Land  of  Strong  Men,  The.    By  A.  M.  Chisholm. 
Last  Straw,  The.    By  Harold  Titus. 
Last  Trail,  The.    By  Zane  Grey. 
Laughing  Bill  Hvde.    By  Rex  Beach. 
Laughing  Girl,  The.    By  Robert  W.  Chambers. 
Law  Breakers,  The.     By  Ridsrwetl   Cullum. 
Law  of  the  Gun.  The.    By  Ridgwell  Cullum. 


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